The Lost Boys
by captain americas
Summary: On June 24th, the Blocks, Riveras, Marvils, Gregorys, and Lyonses all got the same automatic message on their answering machines: "Your transcripts have been reviewed and your final grades have been assessed. We look forward to you seeing you at Briarwood Academy on the fifth of September where you will be properly welcomed into the Tomahawk family." / post-TPCSB, various pairings
1. prologue

Hey, so this is my first attempt at a posted fanfiction. I have so many silly stories saved on my computer and when I stumbled upon this site, I figured I'd give it a go. I'm not sure if anyone's done this before, but if so, I'm really sorry! Hopefully I have an original idea, but if not, maybe it'll be worth your while.

Disclaimed.

A few notes:

1. The Pretty Committee are not in middle school, but rather high school and OCD is a private school for girls that goes from sixth grade to twelfth. In this prologue, they're in ninth grade, but for the rest of the series, they will be sophomores.

2. Everything after The Pretty Committee Strikes Back is irrelevent. Act as if that is the last book in the entire series and let this fiction take you in an alternate route.

3. The trip to Lake Placid happened at the end of the year, therefore everything is about to happen- in the prologue and the few chapters after that- in the summer.

I think that's it. I'm hoping you read this with an open mind. It's going to get very serious, I think. Constructive criticism is welcome!

* * *

><p>The Lost Boys<p>

prologue

There were two types of students that went to Octavian Country Day: those who were wealthy and those on scholarship. It was a prestigious school in which only the best of the best managed to attend, a large majority of the girls being daughters of influential men and women with careers in law, business, and medicine. These students traipsed through the halls as if they owned it and if they were the right kind of person, they did. It was easy to persuade the school board to do their bidding- just get a large sum of money from Daddy's wallet and install a new wing, add a bigger library, or expand the green, lush fields. Stunts were forgotten, punishments lessened. A check with lots of zeros could be a very powerful, manipulative thing.

In the way that only a certain group of people could attend OCD, it took a handful of very special students to get expelled.

One would have to be deaf in order to not know who the members of the Pretty Committee were. Even if you did not go to school with them, you heard about them in passing. The name was always tossed around, either in open conversation or shared as a whispered piece of gossip. Two childish words to describe a group of five, they were the girls everyone revered, the girls everyone loved, and the girls everyone feared. Even their parents were well-known.

If anyone were to get in so much trouble, it would be them.

"This is _terrible_," Kristen Gregory moaned, burying her face in the seat's upholstery. Following the teacher in charge's orders, the girls were separated throughout the bus, their freedom to choose where to sit taken away because of their actions. "If my parents find out where I really was, I'm going to be in so much trouble."

"If?" Alicia Rivera echoed snarkily. "This isn't a matter of _if_, Kristen. They obviously already know."

"They do?" Kristen coughed, voice muffled. "I'm going to be grounded for years. Weeks, if I'm lucky."

Alicia rolled her dark eyes. "Well, maybe if _someone _hadn't ruined my life, we would still be on that trip with the rest of our classmates instead of on this stupid bus!" She cast a disdainful look towards the towhead seats ahead of her, the girl unaware of the looks-that-could-kill being sent her way. Her tone was filled with malice, however, a type of anger that she was unaware she was capable of.

"Are you talking about me?" Dylan Marvil half-sobbed, her green eyes rimmed red. "Because you didn't have to go after me, it's not my fault my mom is a skank."

"No, Dylan," the blonde snapped, barely turning her head around to face the Latina behind her. "She's talking about _me_. I can hear you, by the way."

"That was the point, Kuh-laire!"

"Oh, _ouch_. The way you say my name really hurts. I don't know how I will ever go on."

"I do," Alicia forced through gritted teeth. "You'd go right back to Josh, wouldn't you? You two were pretty cozy last night-"

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not interested in him! You just needed to learn a lesson-"

"_A lesson_? Excuse me, but I don't think I've ever done _anything _to you!"

Claire Lyons scoffed, reaching into her pocket to grab her old phone before realizing that they had been confiscated upon entering the bus those hours before. "Don't pretend you weren't flirting with Cam every chance you got!"

"Like he'd ever want to date you after what you did to him!"

"It was an accident!" defended Claire, her hands balled up into fists, nails digging into her skin.

Alicia let out a loud, humorless laugh, a dry sound that seemed to echo throughout the confines of the moving vehicle. "I'd love to hear this one: how can you accidentally make out with him? Did you trip and fall? Were your lips the only things to keep you two from skinning your knees?"

"For the love of _God_, Alicia-"

"_SILENCE_!"

The booming voice of Miss Dunkel silence the feuding girls, whom of which looked down at the shiny floor with guilt-filled gazes. The tension in the room soared as the teacher's light, tired eyes angrily scanned the seats. "I thought I told you there would be no talking on this ride regardless of our proximity to the school. You don't want to get in any more trouble. At this rate, you're already hanging by a loose thread." She paused. "We're a few miles outside Westchester. If you could remain silent for the remainder of the ride, maybe I won't rat you out to Mr. Myner and Principal Burns."

The quiet that settled amongst the five girls was forced and uncomfortable. Unable to really see each other and interact, it was hard to fathom what really went on in the past twelve hours. It was enough to get them sent home early, away from everyone else. Who knew running into the forest- no matter how many times they were warned not to- could lead to this?

Alicia turned swiftly, making sure Miss Dunkel did not notice her sudden movements, and made eye contact with the one person who had not opened her mouth all bus ride. Massie Block sat two aisles behind her. _I hate her_, she mouthed slowly, crossing her arms over her chest.

_Who? Claire or Dunkel? _

_Claire_, the beta answered with an eye roll.

Massie shrugged, replying with _you'll get over it _before dropping her head to inspect her cuticles.

The bus rolled into the parking lot of Octavian Country Day a short fifteen minutes later.

In a single file line, the Pretty Committee silently followed their teacher, who led them through the darkened halls of their school, past the rows of lockers and the one bathroom with the really nice lighting until they were standing in front of a door that clearly read PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE in tiny, white lettering. Kristen gripped the sleeve of her hoodie tightly, twisting it in her grasp as the sound of two knocks reverberated through the silent corridors.

Without waiting for response, Miss Dunkel twisted the knob and pushed, light flooding the darkness. Inside, they could see a deep red desk covered in a large calendar, a few picture frames, and various papers stacked neatly to the side. Principal Burns was in, working far too early for her liking. It was completely evident in her narrowed stare.

"Thank you, Jacqueline," she nodded. "Ladies, please have a seat."

There were five chairs left empty, scattered between the forms of their parents. They dutifully placed themselves in their seats. Len Rivera did not look very pleased with his daughter, his tie left undone and his gaze hard. "I'd like to know what the punishment is before I'm late for a very important case."

"I understand that this is very last minute, but I needed all of you here to discuss the consequences your daughters will have to face," Principal Burns spoke as if Len, a very renowned lawyer, had not just snapped at her. "As you are already aware, due to phone calls made late in the night yesterday when we could not place your children, many rules were broken- rules the staff at Lake Placid and my chaperones were constantly reminding them of."

William nodded. "Yes. They ran into a highly dangerous forest, publicly harrassed a few workers, snuck off after curfew..."

"How much do you want?" Len took over from there. "Nadia, take out the check book."

Principal Burns shook her head quickly. "Unfortunately, there is no amount that can cover the damage. They could have seriously ruined that camp's reputation had they gotten maimed or worse by a bear."

"Then why did you let them go?" Marsha argued, lips pursed.

"I believe your daughter was not on the list of those attending, Mrs. Gregory. That in itself is even worse. If Kristen had gotten in trouble, it would not be my responsibility because she decided to go although she did not pay for the trip in advance."

Kristen ignored her parents' disapproving stares.

"If you won't take money, what will you take?" Len asked, his defensive, lawyer-type face gracing his Spanish features. "A new library? A bigger art wing?"

"A new-and-improved cafeteria?" added William.

"Although the administrators are very grateful for your contributions to our school, they have decided that this is one issue they will have to take a stand on. If the superintendent found out what happened and saw that we were taking money and additions to our establishment, he would be furious. He does not approve of the way we handle things at a much smaller magnitude than this."

"So what?" Massie caught her lip between her teeth. "We'll have detention until school's over?"

"That's fifteen days! That'll ruin my chances of keeping my scholarship!" Kristen's blue eyes widened drastically. She had been able to keep that since the sixth grade- she couldn't lose it now.

Dylan leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I'm pretty sure you lost that when you decided to sleep under Massie's bunk for two nights."

"You are not allowed to attend classes. Effective immediately." Principal Burns' voice was void of emotion, monotone, as if she were a robot. The student files before her, full of school pictures and report cards, were open, smiles facing the ceiling. Red, angry stamps were across each of their transcripts. Just one single word. "You will not be returning to Octavian Country Day next year."

Dylan's jaw dropped. Claire bit down on her thumb nail. Massie turned to her parents, a shocked look on her face, begging them to do something, _anything_. Alicia remained silent, frozen in her seat. Kristen let out a startled whimper.

"You have been expelled. Please remove your things from your lockers on your way out."


	2. one

Thank you for the reviews! Your feedback was great. I'm glad I'm doing something right c:

This chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I intended. Since I don't want to spend so much time on their summer antics, I gave you a bit of a snapshot into their lives after they were initially kicked out of OCD. We'll get to the good stuff soon. I think there's only a few more chapters of this type of stuff before they really get into Briarwood.

x, Tawni

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><p>i.<p>

"Should I be worried?" Alicia's voice sounded through the speakers on the computer. She refused to make eye contact with the three other girls in the video chat, unable to meet their gazes when she was feeling so uncharacteristically self-conscious. "It's been four days. He hasn't texted me once."

"Nah," Dylan replied, crunching loudly on a handful of popcorn. "You guys weren't dating; he doesn't have to talk to you nonstop."

The Latina frowned, ducking her head again. "We used to, though, before the trip. Well, before the mishap with Claire..." She twisted the cap on her nail polish, blowing on her painted fingers. "Is Derrick talking to you, Mass?"

Massie looked over at her silent phone, pressing a finger to the 'send' button in order to brighten the screen. No incoming calls. No texts. It had been like this since the buses had brought both the OCD girls and Briarwood boys back Monday afternoon: no contact from anyone in the outside world, besides Dylan, Alicia, and the occasional message from Kristen. "Yeah," she lied easily, swallowing her initial worries and doubts. Alphas had to be perfect and put together in front of their peers and friends, right? "We stopped talking around ten when he had to take a practice final in Spanish."

She had no idea if he even took Spanish.

"God," Alicia muttered. "I wish my relationship was as tight as yours."

_Yeah, me too._ Massie forced a smile, bright eyes flickering across their faces. If anyone really looked at them, they wouldn't be able to tell these girls got expelled from their ultra-prestigious high school. They looked and acted the way they always did. Dylan was snacking on something and would inevitably complain about her weight; Kristen was worrying about grades and tests they didn't have to take anymore; Alicia was looking flawless, talking about boys. Everything was in its proper place... except for them. They had no idea where they were going to school when sophomore year rolled around.

" - I'm sure it will be," Dylan was saying when Massie was brought back to reality. "It's the first week of June, after all. Finals are in - what - two weeks? It's review class after review class and any free time is spent studying."

"Which I should be doing right now," Kristen groaned. It was dark on her end for she was hiding in her bedroom closet, away from the prying eyes of her parents. Headphones were inserted in her ears so no one could assume she was speaking to anyone else. Her parents were stricter than the others, mostly because she was on a scholarship at OCD and needed to keep her grades up in order to stay at the school. "Are you guys positive none of you are in trouble? Your father was furious, Mass."

The brunette shrugged. "I explained the whole thing to him. He thought I was being a good friend, but that doesn't make up for it. I'm 'grounded'" - she air-quoted - "until this week is over. Not allowed to leave my house."

"My parents are too busy to properly punish me," answered Alicia. "What do you think of this color? Too light?" She waved a hand in front of her webcam.

"Cute," Dylan replied, "and Kris, my mom acknowledged that it was her fault I ran off. She's currently trying to get me back in."

"Really?" The sporty blonde widened her eyes. "Do you think that's going to work? They wouldn't even let me write an essay."

Dylan flipped her long curls over her shoulder. "She's Merri-Lee Marvil. She _always _gets her way."

"How can you be so sure?" Alicia asked skeptically, applying yet another coat of the light pink color to her nails. "They wouldn't take any of my dad's money and he was offering up a shitload."

"My mom has her own talk show. Everyone watches it," she explained with an eye roll. "Try to tell her no and she'll bash you on live television. I highly doubt the school board wants that to happen. Once she says something's out, everyone follows her lead."

Massie shook her head, watching in boredom as her phone rang twice on her desk. Alicia's eyes snapped to it, an all-knowing smile curving on her lips. "Derrick?"

Amber eyes meeting brown, Massie debated telling her the truth - that it was really her mother telling her she was about to go to the gym - but thought better of it. She nodded once, reaching over to grab the device and typed back a message. A simple _okay_ was what she sent, but if asked, it was something more elaborate and obviously flirtatious.

"What's he want?"

"He said..." She went back to her inbox as if she were really getting the actual words and paused when she saw the last message she had sent him. It was after dinner the second night of the Lake Placid trip during the hour of mingling they were allowed before the campfire. It had taken her about ten minutes to figure out what to send, but in the end, she settled on: _free cabin ;)_. Alicia persuaded her to send the winky face and she still cringed whenever she read it. "School sucks. Miss you."

"Aw," Dylan cooed. "He's adorable."

"I wish Josh would text me things like that." Alicia pouted.

"You wish he would text you at all," Kristen shot back, an amused smirk on her face.

Alicia rolled her eyes. "At least I have boys texting me. Your head is always stuck in some book - boys hardly know you exist!"

"I'm not complaining this time." Kristen stretched her arms languidly over her head, fingers brushing the material of a coat behind her. "I'm not having any boy drama, am I?"

Tuning them out, Massie's thumbs hovered over the keyboard, Derrick's chat still opened. Would he think she was being too clingy if she talked to him first? She read that the boy was supposed to make the first move, but this was getting ridiculous. There were so many things she wanted to ask him but there was no way any of the questions harboring in her mind would be answered if he didn't try to talk to her. The last time they even really spoke was the hour and a half they spent together before she found herself in the dark, dank forest... and even then, not a lot of talking was going on.

Just as she was about to send the one word, Kristen's startled voice caused her to drop her phone. "_Shit_, I think my mom's home early! I have to get this back in her closet before she checks - I'll try to talk to you again soon. If not, good luck with the punishments... or lack thereof."

"Good luck with the studying!" Dylan called, wiggling her fingers as Kristen's screen went blank.

Alicia scowled. "She's been getting on my nerves lately."

"You're just jealous she's perfectly content with her life," the redhead murmured thoughtfully. "Ugh, I'm out of popcorn."

"Is that all you think about, Dyl? Food? No wonder boys are intimidated by you." Alicia blew her bangs out of her face, wrinkling her nose at Dylan's actions. "You're supposed to be light and ladylike - they don't want to date someone just like them."

Dylan was silent for a moment, a small frown tugging at the corners of her lips, but it was gone as soon as it came. She snorted, laughing cheerfully. "They're missing out then. I'm fabulous even with my belches."

"Can we just talk about my dilemmas?" The Latina whined, glancing down at her phone again. "Massie's getting messages from Derrick, I'm sure Olivia's talking to Plovert... why isn't Josh texting me? I swear, if he's talking to Claire -"

"He's not," Massie interjected quickly. "She got all technology taken away. Including her camera."

Alicia nodded curtly. "And she deserves all of it. No matter how many times she tries to tell me that make out with Josh was an accident, I refuse to believe it. She's had it out for me since day one; this was all part of her immaculate plan to bring me -"

"Chin up, Leeshy," Dylan teased. "He'll call when he calls. There's no use stress-breaking out over a boy when you have the rest of them wrapped around your finger."

"That's true," Alicia agreed. "But dating Kemp Hurley does not seem like a fun time."

"I wasn't talking about him, but if that's what you want..."

"Ew, pass."

In her lap, Massie's phone lit up, buzzing incessantly. Her heart stopped when the very name she that had been consuming her thoughts flashed across the tiny screen. It wasn't fair that seven letters could make her hands shake and her legs turn to jello. She wondered if she had the same effect on him as he did her, but it was doubtful. He was the cutest boy in their grade; he could get any girl he wanted and he picked her. There was no way she made him fluttery and nervous.

"I have to go," she said quickly. "Dad wants to discuss my options for next year. Boring, I know. I'll text when it's over."

Both Dylan and Alicia said their farewells - she could hear the two of them continuing to bicker over the most trivial things: food, boys, that one jacket they both owned. None of that mattered to Massie, however, as she swiveled around in her chair and opened the message up. She was hoping for some sort of apology, something that explained his absence. She would even take something cute, but she received none of the above.

DERRICK: Meet me at the park after school?

* * *

><p>ii.<p>

There were three things Alicia never did.

She never once inquired for a second piece of pie, even if the first tiny bit she had was delectable. She never wondered if she looked fat because - well, look at her. She was a size zero and if that ever changed, she'd actually die. And most importantly, she never debated ever calling a boy that did not call her first. She learned at a young age that girls were the ones to leave those pesky boys wanting more. They were supposed to be enthralled by her charm; they were supposed to dial her number and await nervously for her to pick up. It was not practical for the girl to consider it. It was always the boy's job.

Whoever invented those rules had obviously never met Josh Hotz.

It was so irritating that he wasn't talking to her. They had hit it off great earlier in the year and he had seemed incredibly interested, but now it was like she hardly existed. And no one - _no one _- ignored Alicia Rivera. He should be thrilled she had taken such a liking to him! Boys were constantly falling at her feet, wishing for a conversation or a smile in their direction. Josh was getting both of those _and_ her seductive eyelash flutters! What more could he want?

Don't say Claire Lyons. There was nothing special about her. She was too common, too boring, too plain. Alicia was exotic. The fact that he even let that... that thing touch his lips was beyond gross. She was content - maybe not anymore, but she had that one coming - with Cam. Why bother with someone that was already taken when someone even better wanted him? Alicia was everything any boy could ever want all balled up into one person.

After checking her phone for the billionth time that day, she groaned, falling back on her massive bed. She was supposed to live in a picture perfect fairytale; that's what her mother always told her. All her life, Alicia wanted nothing more than to find her Prince Charming, the Aladdin to her Jasmine. Even her room was modeled after her favorite Disney classic (and she liked to ignore the fact that Aladdin wasn't really a rich prince, but a peasant). She deserved to have everything that came with it: the romance, the adventure, the boy. And the boy she wanted was Josh. No ifs, ands, or buts.

She was determined to get him, even if it meant breaking the number one girl rule.

Searching for his name in her phone - he was the first _J_ contact she had; that had to count for something - she delicately tapped the touch screen and brought the device to her ear. It was late enough in the day that he'd be able to answer. And he would. Why wouldn't he?

It kept ringing, however, turning her stomach into knots. Doubting herself was not something she did very often. In fact, she told herself there was no point in doing so. To think that a continuously ringing phone was making her uncomfortable was preposterous... but then again, this call was leading her to Josh's voice and she actually really liked him.

He finally picked up on the last ring. "Hello?"

"Josh, hey!" she chirped, shaking herself out. He answered. That was all that mattered.

"Hey... uh, Alicia. What's up?"

She puckered her lips in her nightstand mirror, applying yet another coat of her favorite gloss. "Nothing much... I just wanted to know how the rest of the trip went."

"Right, I heard you guys got expelled," Josh remarked. "It was okay, I guess. Nothing special. We went hiking. Ate lunch. Went home."

"I'm actually glad I missed that." Alicia laughed. "I'm not a hiking girl."

"You never struck me as the type," he replied. Alicia fought the urge to catch her bottom lip between her teeth as his deepening voice spoke smoothly on the other line. He was so _cute_. "I'm sorry about what happened. It must've sucked getting in trouble after Dylan ran off. Claire told me that -"

"_Claire_?" Alicia echoed, unable to keep the steely tone out of her voice. "You talked to Claire?"

There was a slight pause on the other end. "Yeah. Just this morning. I wanted to know how she was doing. She seemed really upset... are you going to be seeing her later? Can you tell her that I -"

"No," Alicia said harshly. He had to be kidding right now. Alicia talk to Claire? After all this? There _was_ a reason he wasn't texting her anymore! He was too busy talking to that crush-stealing, Keds-wearing _Claire Lyons_. "Because she told all of us that she got her phone taken away. We haven't been in contact with her since the morning we got kicked out of OCD. How she is able to talk to _you_ is beyond me."

Josh swallowed. "It's from Todd's -"

"Oh, she's talking to you from _Todd's_ phone?" Alicia laughed humorlessly. "She's talking to _you _and not her friends? Is there something wrong with this picture?"

"I guess - I don't know why she wouldn't be talking to you guys," he defended quickly. "But if you do see her, can you give her a message for me?"

"Why can't you just text Todd?"

"He told me he's going to be at school until about eight and Claire wouldn't have his phone until after that."

Alicia shook her head, scowling. "Well, in that case, I would _love _to help you out."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Sorry I flipped before, it's just upsetting that she wanted to talk to a boy over her four best friends, you know?" She rolled her eyes.

"True, but it had to look believable, I guess. Why would Todd be talking to you guys?"

She shrugged her shoulders in response before realizing that he couldn't see her. "He is a little creep."

Josh laughed. "I agree with that. But, um, thanks. Just let her know that seven is good for me and I hope she gets ungrounded soon."

Alicia forced a smile, digging her freshly-manicured nails into her palm. "No problem. I'll let her know as soon as I see her."

"Cool. Will you be seeing her soon?"

"Yeah, I pass by Massie's on my way to dance. I can stop at her house before my class."

"You know, I was wrong about you, Alicia."

She raised her eyebrows in curiosity. What had Josh originally thought of her? "Yeah?"

"Yup. You're a really great friend."

_Friend_? Alicia angrily ended the call, forcing her phone down onto her nightstand. It didn't matter if the screen cracked or not, she could get a new one. Josh officially shoved her in the friend zone; she needed a good shopping spree, even if it was for a brand new cell. He thought she was a _really great friend_. And she was - to the people she actually liked.

Unfortunately Claire did not fall under that category.

And sadly, she didn't have dance on Fridays. Did she forget to mention that?

* * *

><p>iii.<p>

The Marvil mansion was a mess. Unlike Alicia and Massie, Dylan did not have a maid or live-in housekeeper. Her mother was never around to really critique the layout of the home and there normally was never a mess - unless Ryan and Jamie were home. And, of course, their plane from Vermont had flown in at around six this morning and the limo Merri-Lee sent to retrieve them from JFK deposited them on the doorstep at around eight-thirty-nine.

When the two twins were home, everyone knew it. It took them weeks to unpack their things which Dylan never understood because they had to repack them once again, so why wait so long? Shoes were cluttering the stairs. Jackets were hanging off the backs of couches. Dishes were piling up in the sink. Food was scattered across the kitchen surfaces. Dylan's sisters were slobs and although she had to clean up after them, she wouldn't have it any other way.

"No, seriously, he - his name is Garrett, Dyl - thought I _wouldn't_ find out that he was cheating on me with my supposed best friend. _I'm _Jamie Marvil, I find out everything!"

"Wait, he was hooking up with Chloe behind your back?" the youngest inquired. Her sisters always had the best pieces of gossip, coming from an ultra-cool boarding school so many states away. They were college freshmen now, so all of their stories were so scandalous. "I thought she was, like, your best friend."

Jamie sighed, tossing her blonde hair out of her face. "Trust no one, Dyl. They only end up stabbing you in the back."

"Don't tell her that!" Ryan slapped her sister's hand out of the candy bowl, her dark brown braid falling over her left shoulder. "Dylan, there are some people out there you know you're going to be friends with forever. Jamie's being dramatic again."

"Not dramatic, realistic."

"My friends have not done anything behind _my _back. You're hanging out the wrong people."

"And you're not?" Jamie scoffed. "Your friends were nerds, hon, sorry to say."

Ryan shook her head. "Just because they got better grades than you guys combined does not make them nerds. Kendall was dating Luke, in case you forgot."

"How could I?" the blonde asked. "I tried to break them up sophomore year, remember?"

"And that worked out wonderfully, didn't it?"

Jamie did not respond.

Dylan sometimes wished her life was full of boys craving her affections, but that was never the case. She would be lucky if someone wanted to stay with her for longer than five minutes. They normally wanted Alicia or Massie because they were so gorgeous and mysterious. And then there was Kristen, someone to talk sports with. No one ever wanted to talk to Dylan unless they were asking her about her mom's show (_always_ her mom's show) or telling her she was blocking their way to the snack table. Her friends tried to tell her otherwise, but just look at the cards on the table. The guy she had liked at first went after Massie, the new kid wanted Alicia, and even Claire had a boyfriend!

Her hand dipped into the bowl before her, but she halted suddenly, biting down on her tongue. Was Alicia right when she said food was a major turn off? Were they really intimidated by her? Sure, Dylan just brushed her friend's comments off, but they really affected her. What if she was right? Maybe they didn't want to date her because she acted too much like a guy... She pulled her fingers away from the sweets as if she had been burned.

"Enough about our lives, J." Ryan tugged on one of Dylan's bright curls. "Tell us about your life. How's OCD? How are the boys looking?"

"Boys are cute. Patrick's younger brother is dating Massie-"

"Aw, I remember when Derrick was seven!" Jamie placed her hand over her heart. "Adorable. He tried to be just like his older brother. Aw."

"-and Harris' is with - or was with - this new girl I'm friends with, Claire. She moved from Florida."

Ryan nodded. "Mom sent pictures. She's cute."

"Doesn't fit in well, but cute nonetheless," Jamie added. "What else? How's school? Bird Lady still running with an iron fist? So glad we got out of there when we did."

Dylan licked her lips, her tongue becoming sticky with her peach-flavored lip gloss. "Yeah, she's a stickler, all right... in fact, we went on that Lake Placid trip last week..."

"Oh my god, Ry, do you remember that trip?" Jamie exclaimed, jumping slightly on the bed. The bowl of Junior Mints tilted, chocolate candies littering the light green bed sheets. "They used to have that in seventh grade - y'know, to get to know everyone? I had my first kiss in that one cabin -"

Ryan wrinkled her nose. "No one in this room wants to hear about Alex Singer shoving his tongue down your throat."

"How was it, Dyl? Was it everything you ever dreamed it would be? Co-ed field trips are the _best_."

Dylan wanted to be able to tell her sisters exciting stories of secret rendezvouses with boys and discuss conversations shared with them. She was nothing like Jamie and Ryan, however; boys wanted to be friends with her more than they wanted to kiss her. She did have her first kiss - in a game of Spin the Bottle, no less, with Chris Plovert last summer - but it wasn't like anyone wanted to be with her. She had nothing gasp-worthy to tell them except...

"Well, I got expelled."

And her story took the cake. Forget boys cheating and Halloween balls and Christmas dances - her sisters wanted to hear everything about Dylan's adventures.

"WHAT?"

"I knew you had it in you!" Jamie clapped. "Tell us everything."

"It's a long story," Dylan warned them, throwing her hair up in a messy bun. The weight of her thick locks pulled down on her scalp. "I told you about that Claire girl and Cam, Harris' younger brother, right? Well, they're an on and off kind of couple so they were currently off because Claire made out with Josh, the new Briarwood boy, and Alicia, who liked him, found out and was furious." She took a deep breath, trying to condense the trip without confusing herself. "So Alicia, being, well, Alicia, went after Cam and started flirting with him every chance she got. He didn't seem to mind. Claire got jealous - I think - and went after Josh again and Alicia saw what was going on because Josh texted her to meet him at the spot he and Claire were. Alicia then ran off into the forest and Claire followed after her."

Ryan frowned. Jamie urged her to continue.

"Kristen's parents couldn't afford to send her on the trip so she snuck in after convincing them she had a soccer game nearby and -"

Dylan's phone beeped, interrupting her story. She ignored it, wanting to finish this tale before she got absorbed in something else. It was probably just Massie. "So she was there without anyone else knowing, except for us, of course. But then I stumbled upon Mom and Mr. -" Her phone beeped again.

"Someone really wants to talk to you!" Ryan sing-songed.

"Who's Plovert? And Kemp?" Jamie questioned, throwing Dylan's phone into her hands. "Are _two_ boys texting you right now?"

The youngest Marvil frowned, but nodded anyway. Why would they would be sending her messages? They didn't really interact that much, but she found herself talking to them a lot more than any of the other guys. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, opened their messages - and suddenly wanted to vomit.

_Oink, oink! Are you related to this little guy? _

* * *

><p>iv.<p>

If Kristen read one more paragraph on Ancient Greek custom, she was going to scream. Her mother was driving her crazy. While her friends were off living up their expulsion, she was under house arrest, studying every single textbook she owned until she could recite, in their words, the material written on the pages. Her parents were probably the only ones making her take OCD's final tests. In two weeks, Kristen would be sitting with the other girls in the ninth grade, writing English essays and bubbling in answers about the Greeks, Egyptians, and Romans and answering short responses as to why their governments helped shape America's. She'd be doing triangle and parallelogram proofs and determining what hormones did what.

To her mother and father, Kristen's grades meant everything. They were more than furious she lost her scholarship by sleeping under Massie's bunk and going on a trip that was too expensive for their strict budget. These finals would determine if she could attend Abner Double Day, the public school on the other side of town, without having to pay a single cent.

In the bowl that normally held fresh fruit, Kristen's phone lit up. Craning her neck, the sporty blonde determined her mother was too busy making dinner - the hiss of meat being placed on a hot pan and her humming proved it - and slowly grabbed it, hiding it behind her heavy book. She opened the message with the skill of a girl who texted regularly during class.

DYLAN: SOS. Vid chat?

KRISTEN: Not right now. I'll try for later.

DYLAN: Kay

Arranging the table back, Kristen slumped in her seat. Her friends needed her. They only texted _SOS_ when something huge happened, something they needed to discuss. She wanted to know, to help, but she was stuck learning until her brain exploded. Her mother would never understand. Money was tight and her education was riding on these tests. If she didn't get into ADD, she didn't know what would happen. She most certainly did not want to be home-schooled.

"How's the studying going, Kristmas?"

She winced. "Really well, Mom! Do you think I could take a break? My mind is swimming -"

Marsha poked her head out of the kitchen. She was an attractive woman when the hideous pink apron was removed, but the frown on her face did not enhance her looks. "You know what I'm going to say, honey. You need to do well."

"I know, Mom, but I've been in the same spot since lunchtime. Can't I go for a walk and stretch my legs?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea. How can I be so sure you won't go find your friends?"

The fact that she didn't trust her own daughter was actually disgusting. "Massie's grounded. Alicia's probably at home. Dylan has to spend time with her sisters. Claire got her phone taken away. I don't think I'll be seeing them."

"Looks like their parents finally decided to parent the _right _way." Her mother nodded approvingly. "I'd love to let you out, but maybe if you read another chapter. Have you been taking notes?"

Kristen sighed, tugging on her finally-long-enough hair. "Yes. I've been outlining each section. Look." She held up her notebook, pages upon pages of lined paper filled with her neat writing, all about the various civilizations and cultures her textbook spoke about. "I'm almost done, too. I have about three more chapters and then I can move on to geometry, which I wanted to do tomorrow..."

Marsha pursed her lips, opening the fridge door. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. You have been doing a lot," she finally said, rubbing the side of her nose. "You know what? Go for that walk, but make sure you get to the store. I need milk and eggs."

"Thank you!" Kristen cheered, jumping from her seat. She grabbed the twenty dollar bill, pocketed her phone, and raced out of the apartment so fast she barely heard her mother's reminder ("Two percent, not one!") before the door shut behind her.

The fresh air felt so good against her skin. It picked up the bottom of her hair, tossing it around in the breeze. She readjusted her black headband, venturing down the block. The sky was beginning to darken, the sun setting in the distance: a beautiful sight of pinks, oranges, and yellows mixing together. It smelled so much like summer, Kristen could almost taste it. She wished she could appreciate it the same way everyone else could - antsy in class, waiting for that final bell to ring, tossing her books out after finals, heading to Skye Hamilton's annual beginning-of-summer bash. Instead, she'd be inside, learning everything there was to know in order to be at the top of her game at ADD. If she got in.

Why had she made such a stupid, spontaneous decision? It wasn't even that good of a lie. Soccer season was over. Her parents knew that. Why did they believe her and let her go? She couldn't take it back. There was no way. She had to deal with the consequences, even if that meant going to a public school with a bunch of students that hated her for her ability to attend OCD.

Shaking her head, she kicked a pebble and watched as it soared across the street. Harper Avenue was right around the corner. Down the block, third house on the left was Massie's house and the street sign right after that read Oakland Place, where Alicia lived. She could take a detour and visit one of them before she went home... but she decided against it. No use in getting in more trouble.

The walk to the store wasn't that bad. In fact, she used to travel this way every morning before Massie decided carpool to school was necessary. Her (now ex) school was on the way to the closest convenience store. The castle-like pillars were coming into focus now, stone buildings surrounded by lush, green grass. The Pretty Committee's oak tree was just over there, casting shadows in the dusk. There were so many memories in those buildings. It would be sad to leave it all behind.

Yells, shouts and cheers interrupted her quiet walk, causing Kristen to turn her head towards the field. Stopping to get a better look, she felt her heart drop to her feet. Soccer tryouts for the upcoming year. She should be there, showing everyone else how much better she was, how skilled she could be with the black-and-white ball. Of course, she wasn't.

One bad decision ruined everything. There stood her coach... and what looked like the old varsity captain. They were considering her for the forward spot on the exclusive team. _Her_. No one else but Kristen Gregory. Well, not anymore, she guessed, since she wasn't allowed to attend OCD again. Kori would probably get it. She was the next best after Kristen. Or Strawberry. She was good too.

"I shouldn't be here," she muttered, pushing herself off the tree. Dwelling on what she lost was giving her a major headache.

She had some milk and eggs to get - and some studying to do.

* * *

><p>x.<p>

"This town is no good for her!"

"_This town_? This town did not make her do anything she didn't want to!"

"Oh, right. Your best friend's daughter did!"

"Claire makes her own decisions, Judi-"

The bedroom door pushed silently against the dark blue carpet. Sock-clad feet padded into the hall, pausing at the top of the steps. Unmanicured fingers gripped the railing. Below, mother and father were having a heated discussion - read: fight - in the kitchen area. Judi Lyons' hair was a mess of frizzy curls, a result of her frenzy whilst making dinner. Jay was loosening his work tie, jacket tossed on the back of the red armchair.

"I know she can, Jay, but she's being _influenced_-"

"By who?"

"You know who!" Judi wagged a finger in his face. "Don't pretend like you don't! I know you and Will are best friends, but his daughter is an absolute _terror_!"

Sliding down, Claire bit down on her thumb nail, grimacing at the pain - it was already down to the stub - and watched with wide, blue eyes. Her parents had never fought before. They had claimed that it was too tiring to yell and bicker with someone they loved. Yes, they had their fair share of spats, but they were full-out yelling this time around. They had never spoken above a snap in previous conversations.

"Are you saying that our daughter is a mindless follower?" her father replied angrily, forcefully opening the fridge door.

Judi pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, dear. I'm saying that if it weren't for Massie, she wouldn't have been expelled!"

"Massie has nothing to do with this. Leave Will's daughter out of -"

"_Nothing to do with this_?" the golden-haired woman exclaimed loudly, grasping at the counter. "She has _everything _to do with this! Before we moved here, Claire had never even gotten a detention. Before we moved here, Claire was happy with herself! Now look at her - she's practically conforming to be one of those - _those_ girls!"

The cabinet doors slammed shut, rattling the knick knacks on the shelves. A glass cup was placed down on the wooden table with such a force it was a surprise it didn't break. "She made her own decisions, Judi. She didn't have to follow them. She chose to do so."

"You may think that, but it's not true." Judi stood in the doorway, back towards the staircase. "She's been trying so hard to fit in here, so hard to be someone those girls would like to spend their time with! You weren't here when they made her cry or when she was tortured to the point where she wanted nothing but to stay in her room all day! Massie is no good for her - this wouldn't have happened in Florida!"

Claire watched as her father tilted his head back, taking the shot of whatever alcohol he had poured in his tiny cup. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"I want to go home!"

"Home?"

"Florida. I want to go back to _Florida_!"

A sudden panic filled Claire's heart. Florida? That wasn't home anymore. This was. She couldn't go back. Her mother shouldn't want to go back. She had friends here. She had Kendra. Things were so much better here than they were back at their old house. The pizza tasted so good - she couldn't go back to the cardboard types at that pizzeria. Florida was a whole other world compared to Westchester and Claire didn't want to go back. There weren't people to gossip with there; the boys weren't quite as cute as they were here. There was no Massie, no Pretty Committee... no Cam. No Josh either.

No.

Someone elbowed her side roughly, startling her so that her butt landed on the hard floor. "What - Todd!"

"Look what you did," he hissed, eyes trained on the furious actions of their parents. "Did you have to be so stupid?"

"I didn't mean - I wasn't thinking, okay?" Claire snapped. "I know what I did was wrong, but I never anticipated this to happen..."

Todd scoffed, running a hand through his red hair. "Have you not been paying attention? There was bound to be a breaking point eventually. Turns out, all you had to do was stop thinking for two minutes for it to happen."

"I apologized numerous times," she pointed out harshly. "This isn't my fault."

"For once, I'd just like it if you'd own up for the things you've done." He sighed, standing back up to his full height. "They're fighting about you, Claire. If that doesn't make it your fault, I don't know what does." He turned on his heel, stalking back to his bedroom and closing the door with a loud slam.

That didn't deter the argument downstairs, however. The voices seemed to get louder as time went on, Claire's name thrown into the mix more often than not. She wanted to cover her ears and sing loudly until it stopped, but for some odd reason, she was mystified. As her mother announced all of her actions and bad decisions, she couldn't help but agree. The things she had done, the things she had been through - it all changed her. For better or for worse, she didn't know.

Her mother was right: Westchester had done something to her personality and attitude. Florida Claire would not be so quick to kiss a boy (or two). Florida Claire would not try to get revenge on one of her friends for flirting. Florida Claire was the demure version of herself now, the one who knew she had a voice but didn't use it. While Judi wanted to go back to that lifestyle and get away from the posh society they were in now, Claire had to admit that she liked her Westchester self a hell of a lot more, no matter how lost she became.


	3. two

i went to go upload the next chapter because i'm officially free for a whole day, but it turns out this one wasn't even there? i was positive i posted it... oh, well.

it's been a pretty rough week, so maybe you guys could humor me with reviews?

x, tawni

* * *

><p>i + ii.<p>

Rain.

_Of course _it would rain after something like this. When bad luck struck her, everything else seemed to fall apart, including the world around her. She should have suspected it when the dark clouds rolled in or when the first bolt of lightning struck right between two large oaks. To think she had snuck out of her house for this! She was going to be in some serious trouble if her parents opened her bedroom door to find that she wasn't there. It was hard enough to get out of her house damage-free. And for this?

Ugh times a thousand.

The water droplets slid down her face, drenching her hair until it was sticking to every exposed sliver of skin it could reach. She stepped in puddles without a care, cursing the fact that she wore a hoodless cardigan. She felt like she was on auto-pilot. She really didn't want to go home right now. Her house was dull and boring, especially since she was - quote, un-quote - grounded. She just needed a hug, and this would be the only time she would ever admit that.

Her feet took her down the familiar pathway, twisting in the darkening sky. The wind was picking up and she sniffled, rubbing her eyes as the water stuck to her eyelashes. If anyone asked, her make up was ruined because of the rain and that was final.

She was in front of the large manor before she realized where she was, pushing the iron gates in order to get by. The long, winding driveway was ridiculous now that she thought about it, especially since she was on foot. She vaguely remembered a text Dylan had sent her, an important one that she had shrugged off, and desperately hoped that Alicia had taken the initiative to invite her over her own house. Misery loved company.

Pressing a purple fingernail to the doorbell, she shivered, bringing her wet sweater closer to her body. It was no use, however, for she was still as cold as before. She should have expected that.

"Oh!" The door opened quickly, revealing a short, curly brunette. Joyce, Alicia's maid, held a hand to her mouth. "Massie... Massie, dear, what has happened to you? Come in, come in, and let's get you some warm clothes!" She quickly stripped Massie of her cute, striped long-sleeve, laying it gently over the stair railing. "Alicia!" she hollered up to the second floor. "Alicia! Get down her with a warm outfit! Your friend is drenched here!"

There was a muffled response from behind a closed door, but Alicia had heard.

"While you wait, I will get you some tea," Joyce stated, scurrying off into the kitchen. The kettle was immediately put on the stove.

Massie tried to brush the hair out of her face, but her fingers only met tangles. This was just _perfect_. Alicia's soft footsteps could be heard as she came down the stairs. "Joyce, who is - ehmagawd, Massie! What happened?"

"Seriously not in a good mood right now," the brunette replied, grabbing the sweater and yoga pants in her friend's arms.

Alicia plopped down next to her. "Did you... walk here?"

Despite the fact that they were in the foyer, Massie pulled her shirt off, inwardly groaning at the damp feeling her bra was creating to her skin. She shimmied her way into the dry clothing. "Yes."

"Why? Did they take Isaac... wait, aren't you grounded until the end of the week? Why are you even here?"

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, twisting her hair into a bun on the top of her head. "Derrick texted me. He told me to meet him at the park. And... well, now I'm here."

"What happened?" her best friend reiterated.

"I can now join the single girl bandwagon."

Alicia gasped, placing a hand on Massie's shoulder. "_No_. You're lying."

She shook her head glumly. "Nope. He dumped me."

"I didn't see this coming."

"Neither did I. This literally came out of nowhere."

Joyce rushed back in, nursing a piping hot cup. "Get out of those pants, dear, you'll catch a cold!" she tutted, placing the tea on the step above them.

"I will, Joyce, thank you." Massie smiled at her, actually grateful for the affection of someone who was not her mother. Not like Kendra would actually stop worrying about herself to make sure her daughter felt better. As the maid wandered off again, she picked the cup up by the handle, warming her hands. She was frozen in places she never thought could feel the cold. Her hands were numb. Her nose was probably red.

Rain sucked.

"Tell me what happened," Alicia urged. "I thought everything was perfect between you two."

It felt weird to tell the Latina personal things again, so soon after their most recent blow-out. Normally, Massie would go to Claire with these things because the blonde always knew the right thing to say. She understood Massie's insecurities and would never hold them over head like Alicia or even Dylan would. She was probably the best friend Massie ever had.

But Claire was grounded, her mother not allowing any visitors - even if they were Massie - and Alicia was here, looking and playing the part of the concerned friend. She could trust her just this once, right?

She hoped so because like Massie thought earlier, she really needed a hug. And some ice cream. Low fat and sugar-free, of course.

"I don't even know," she admitted, taking a tentative sip of her hot bevarage. "It went by so fast. I always thought people were lying when they said that but... it's true. Things like that really go by in a blink of an eye." Alicia nodded, but said nothing, absorbing it all. "He told me I was _immature _and that I spent too much time worrying about material things and how I looked."

Alicia frowned. "You? Immature? Um, isn't he the one who shakes his butt when he saves a goal? And wears shorts all year round?"

"That's what I said! Who is he to tell me that _I'm _immature when he acts like he's a five year old?" Massie sighed. "He told me there was a difference between having fun and being immature. Apparently, I fall under the second option, obviously, and he's the first." She huffed - she couldn't believe this was actually happening. The fact that Derrick's mind thought of these things... "And then he awkwardly kissed my cheek before he turned on his heel and left."

"Was he angry or something?"

"It didn't seem like it." Massie frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think I did anything to spur this."

"Boys are weird, Mass," said Alicia supportively. "He didn't drop any hints at Lake Placid, did he?"

The amber-eyed brunette shook her head confidently, although now that the question was out there, she couldn't help but analyze everything he ever did or said around her. No, he didn't seem upset with her during the campfire... or dinner... or breakfast the morning after. He purposely held her hand when their group was stuck going on a nature walk by the river during the day. And he wasn't complaining when they were left alone - in fact, he seemed really pleased with the fact that they were finally spending some one-on-one time without being interrupted.

So, no. There were no signs. Nothing obvious, at least. But what did she know? He could have been a really good actor.

Again, the doubts flooded her mind. She had spent all this time pretending that she was this boy expert and that she kissed them all the time, but really, she was as inexperienced as, like, the biggest loser in their grade. She didn't know the first thing about making out and it annoyed her to no end that Claire was the one to tell her that it wasn't that bad, you get used to the tongue. Alphas were supposed to know the most, right?

Was she bad and that was why he dumped her? Did he think she was too easy and didn't want to associate with her anymore? She chewed on her lower lip, watching as Alicia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. If the queen of gossip was stumped, that _had_ to mean something. It wasn't every day that she was floored like this - she knew practically everything.

Massie knew she shouldn't have let him get any farther than the awkward-but-it-got-better-and-more-comfortable tonsil hockey. It had all happened so fast (again with the phrase!) and she hardly knew what was going on - except that she liked it. The way that he fumbled with the clasp on her back made her feel a little better, too, because as easy as it was for him to attack her mouth, there was something he hadn't done before.

"Just don't worry about it right now," Alicia suggested. "Let's get your mind off of it... oh - I talked to Josh today."

"Did you?" Sipping tea again, Massie wriggled slightly. "He call you?"

"No," she admitted sheepishly. "I caved."

"Tell me something good happened. I'd love to hear a happy story."

"No can do," Alicia said with a disappointed shrug. "He's been talking to Claire."

Rain pelted the windows. Thunder boomed in the distance. Massie really hated rain. "What? How? She told me she got her phone taken away."

"They've been texting through Todd's."

Massie wrinkled her nose. Why was Claire talking to Josh and not her? She promised she'd be in touch if she could and if not, she'd try to beg for her phone back. If Todd was letting her use his phone, why didn't she immediately think of dialing Massie's number? "I'm confused."

"I called him and he was just talking about _her_ the entire time." Alicia pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm so done with the boys around here though. I mean, Derrick breaks it off with you for the _stupidest _reason and Josh is interested in someone like Claire over me? No thanks. I'd rather find someone who thinks I'm amazing and never wants to lose me."

"You'll probably find a guy like that wherever you end up going to school next year," Massie pointed out.

"Hopefully," Alicia sighed. "What are you looking into? My mom wants to try that Catholic school on the other side of town, but I refuse to wear those unflattering uniforms every day. I was thinking boarding school. In the sun."

"Me too," agreed the brunette. "On the west coast, hopefully. If not, I'll go to Florida or something."

"It'll be sad going to different schools. Who's going to tell me when my hair is frizzy or if I need more gloss?"

"Your new boarding school friends." Massie drained her tea, feeling the warmth spread through her entire body. It was easy to wiggle her toes again. "But when is your hair ever frizzy, Leesh?"

She giggled. "Never, but that's besides the point. You know what I meant."

"I did, but let's not focus on that either. We've got the whole summer to spend together before we go our separate ways. We'll make sure it's the best three months of our lives."

Alicia nodded in agreement, a brilliant smile lighting up her previously solemn features.

"And for now, let me get out of these pants - I think they're sticking to me - and put on some fuzzy socks. We can watch a bunch of girl empowering movies to get over the fact that boys completely suck."

* * *

><p>iii + iv.<p>

"They sent you _pig pictures_?"

Dylan nodded furiously, holding her phone up to the computer screen. "Can you see? Look at how offending they are!"

Kristen's left eye was so close to the camera, Dylan could see the different shades of blue and green in her irises. "I can't believe they would do that," the former replied incredulously. "What did you even do to them to make them classify you as a 'pig'?"

"That's the thing - I don't know!" She rubbed her forehead, glaring at the terrible storm raging outside. "I mean, sure, I talked to them and hung out with them a bit more than I would with Cam, Josh, and Derrick, but I was just being normal, y'know?"

"Kay..."

"I wasn't being rude or derogatory or anything. I was on my best behavior. Not everyone likes my jokes, I get that, and I needed someone to hang with while Alicia was off with Josh and Claire with Cam and Massie with Derrick. All I did was eat..." She pressed her teeth into her lip. "You don't think that's it, do you?"

Kristen frowned. "Don't think _what_ is?"

"Me. Eating."

"No, no, of course not." Kristen shook her head. It was difficult to see her in the dark, but that was to be expected since she stole her computer - again - at around one thirty in the morning once she was sure Marsha and Ray were passed out cold. Just to be safe, she was hidden in a corner of her bedroom, all the lights off and talking in a hushed whisper. "I overheard them at the Spring dance - they _like_ you because you're not afraid to be a little less like the other girls."

"These texts _really_ prove it," Dylan replied sarcastically. Her phone vibrated again, but she ignored it, not in the mood to deal with King Perv and the boy she thought she was crushing on.

If she wasn't already self-conscious about her weight, she'd suddenly be worried about the way she always looked a little bigger than the others. She didn't have Massie's hips or Alicia's chest or Kristen's athletic legs or Claire's skinny frame. She was always trying to lose those extra pesky pounds, trying to slim her body down to that perfect size zero. Her thighs were always touching a little too much. Her stomach was not flat. She had a chubbier face, but with the help of her friends, she had finally started - slightly - to believe that there was nothing wrong with her.

The fact that she was getting compared to a hoofed mammal that lived in mud and ate feed did not help her.

"I can't say I know why they do the things they do. Boys play mind games just as much as girls do."

The blonde pulled the ponytail out of her hair, letting her waves cascade around her face. Dylan suddenly felt a burst of envy flood through her: her hair never looked that good once she took it out of any style. It took hours to tame it, to make it look presentable enough to be seen in public. No one knew how early she had to wake up just to make sure she got a brush through her thick, red locks. It wasn't fair that Kristen could look this good this late at night when Dylan was positive her makeup-free face looked atrocious. She had even seen Alicia let her hair dry naturally after a shower. The way it fell was most certainly not the way Dylan's did. While hers was frizzy and puffy, the Spanish beauty's looked as if she had just stepped out of a hair salon.

Kristen frowned. "Dyl, there's nothing wrong with you. Don't listen to them. They're petty boys who don't know a thing about you. You look great, Dylan."

"I know," she forced a smile. "I'm not letting it bother me personally. It's just..." she trailed off, picking her brain for the right words. "_Upsetting_ that other people think of me in this way. Who knows what the girls at OCD label us behind our backs."

"Slut. Bitch. Whore. Tramp..." Her friend answered, ticking names off on her fingers. "They don't love us unconditionally. We've been nothing but mean and nasty to them since we stepped foot in that school in the sixth grade. They call us every name under the sun. But there's one thing I do know - they may not adore us, but they respect us and that's all we ever wanted. We've made a mark and climbed to the top in the same way every other popular kid has done. Our names may be thrown around in both good and bad ways, but regardless of the context, they're being used anyway. Everyone knows who we are. They can make their own assumptions about our character but that doesn't change who we really are."

Kristen always knew what to say. Dylan guessed it was because she was so smart and that her vocabulary held a long range of words that, when put together in a proper sentence, sounded eloquent. She'd admit that sometimes she didn't quite understand what she was talking about, but when push came to shove, Kristen's nice words were better than Massie's hard-hitting advice any day.

Even so, that didn't stop the redhead from pinching her stomach. The amount of fat in between her fingers made her nauseous.

"And who are we?" she questioned, grinning cheekily.

"Well, you, first of all, are fabulous. You're the only natural redhead in our grade and girls have been trying to copy your color since day one. Girls may say you're disgusting for eating in front of boys or at all, but they're actually just jealous they're not as confident with their body as you are. And don't tell me you're not, Dyl, because if you weren't, you end up following all of Alicia's tips and stopped eating entirely. You're fierce and you know it."

For the next half hour, Dylan listened to Kristen and tried her hardest to believe everything she was saying. It was like she was explaining someone Dylan had never met, not herself. And although she told her that she was better now and two boys would not bring down her self esteem, she found herself standing in front of her mirror, stripped down to her underwear.

Adults all over - including her mother's personal stylist - always complimented her on her body type. Tessa had been working with celebrities for years and always loved the curves Merri-Lee's daughter possessed. "When I was in high school, I always wanted to be the girl with an actual body," she told her the one day she popped by to get the talk show host ready for a televised event. "I'm so jealous."

Normally, thinking of something like that would make her feel ten times better about herself. People wanted to look like her - but this time, all she saw in the mirror was her head on an inflated pig's body.

Oink. Oink. Oink.

* * *

><p>x.<p>

The pace in which Claire was knocking out these Harry Potter books was ridiculous. It had taken her a total of two weeks to get through _Goblet of Fire_ a year ago, but she had just finished the novel in about a day and a half. Her mind was swimming with spells and no matter how many times she read it, the way that Voldemort regained his body still terrified her.

Sighing, she rubbed a hand across her face. Her room was getting awfully boring. There was nothing to do around here except read and she only had about three more books to get through until she had to find another way to pass the time. Unfortunately, that only left thinking. After her parents fought the night before, she heard the front door slam and her mother's angry stomping until she hid in her room, dinner completely forgotten.

She didn't know if her brother was right, saying that it was her fault it looked like their marriage was falling apart at the seams. It was a harsh accusation, but Claire couldn't help the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Westchester didn't just change her; the entire family was different since their move. That was natural, of course. This used to be an entirely new place. Todd was no longer the dorky kid who played video games by himself for fun. He might be getting rather conceited, but he was actually out of the house more often, hanging out and talking to people he actually liked. Jay was bringing home more money from working for William and although he was careless sometimes and spent a lot of it on impulse, he still saved a good chunk in the bank. Judi wore nicer clothes, had legitimate diamond earrings, and the air of a wife and mother who constantly got her way. She was a hypocrite for even saying that Claire was a changed girl. She was no longer the dumpy Floridian mother she used to be. With a friend like Kendra Block, how could she be?

"Claire, I have a message for you." Her door was shoved open, revealing the disheveled form of Todd, Briarwood uniform tie still tightly around his neck and backpack hanging from his shoulder.

Think of the devil and he shall appear.

"Shoot," she shifted in her bed, leaning her back against the wall.

"Josh wants to know why you ditched him yesterday."

She furrowed her light brows. "What? What about Josh? He didn't -"

Todd shrugged, interjecting, "He said he was surprised you would suggest meeting up and then just bail out. Especially since Alicia was going out of her way to stop by to tell you he said seven was good -"

"Wait. _Alicia_?"

Her brother nodded. "They talked on the phone or something. I don't know the details, but she said she would stop by our house on her way to dance yesterday - Josh was going on and on about much of a great friend she is." He wiggled, his arm slipping out of his jacket. "Which she is. I know I wouldn't even suggest trying to tell someone who made out with the guy _I_ liked -"

"She is no different from you then."

"Huh?"

"She didn't. Come by here, I mean. She doesn't have dance on Fridays."

"So what are you saying?"

Claire huffed. "I'm saying that she probably told Josh she'd tell me but was never planning on it because she's mad at me."

"Well," her brother began, glancing out the window. "You deserve it."

"Will you stop saying that?" she snapped back, miffed. His infatuation with all things Alicia was seriously starting to get on her nerves. "I'm your _sister_. You're supposed to be on my side, not Alicia Rivera's. She doesn't even like you."

His gaze snapped back to her face, sharp and narrowed. "This has nothing to do with sides, Claire. You know as well as I do that I would have your back no matter what happens. I've been there before, remember, when these girls were nothing but the biggest bitches to you? Alicia's hot, yeah, but you're always going to be there. Family is forever. I'm not turning on you, but I'm friends with Cam and what you did to him was not like you. He was devastated for days on end. Literally, he didn't talk to anyone - not even Derrick - unless he had a legitimate question he had to ask."

Her heart dropped suddenly, an overwhelming feeling pricking at the back of her eyes. "I -"

"I don't want any explanations. If anything, Cam is the one that deserves them. Hell, even Alicia and Josh do." He paused, licking his lips. "You're my sister and I love you, but I seriously don't like the person you're becoming."

"Who says I like the person you're turning into?" she argued, raising an eyebrow in a very Massie-esque kind of way.

He snorted. "You can't pull that off. Stop trying. Besides, I didn't ask if you liked how I am. I didn't turn out this way because I craved the attention of four girls who wouldn't have looked in my direction otherwise."

Again, he was gone, just like the night before, holing himself up in his bedroom to study for his finals.


	4. three

I'm in such a good mood weeee!

Yesterday was my school's classnight which is like a battle of the classes in skit writing, dancing, and artwork. For the past three years, we've come in first, which is practically unheard of considering the seniors always come out on top but we did so when we were sophomores and juniors. And it was my last one ): it's really upsetting haha but I'm sure you guys don't want to hear about that.

Here you gooo

* * *

><p>iii.<p>

"Dyllieeee!"

Her sheets her pulled off of her, the cold from the air conditioning meeting the bare skin of her legs. With eyes still closed, she groped blindly for the end and forced it back up, covering her face to avoid the sunlight streaming through the window. She felt like she had just fallen asleep and she wasn't sure if that was true, but she knew her dreams were plagued with farmhouses and animals. She was caged up in a barn with a bunch of mammals, none of whom could talk, only making rough noises. They were her "family," they said. Creatures just like her. People came and pointed, laughed and took pictures.

It was terrifying.

"Go 'way," she mumbled, burying her face in her pillow. It smelled of oranges.

"Sweetie, wake up! I have good news!"

Her mother's voice was so annoying. She swatted at where she assumed she would be, meeting nothing but empty space. "It can wait a few more hours." It had to be at least six in the morning. Merri-Lee believed a good day only resulted in waking up at the crack of dawn.

"This is important, though." The bounce on her bed corresponded with the clear excitement in her mother's tone. "It's about OCD!"

_That_ got Dylan's attention. Shooting up in her bed, she fumbled in her sheets, wincing at the bright sunlight. Why didn't the sun rise at, like, nine? That was a more reasonable hour. "What about it?" she demanded, patting the top of her head. Her red hair was away from her face in a braid. "Are they letting me back in?" She was secretly hoping they would. That school was all she knew. The teachers, the classrooms, the people: it was all so familiar. Leaving it would be hard. Starting from the bottom of the food chain at a new place would be even harder.

"Well... no," Merri-Lee replied, but her smile only seemed to brighten. How that was possible, Dylan had no idea. This was terrible news. Her mother clasped her hands together as if in prayer. "But this is even better. Trust me."

Dylan couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive. Last time she said that, she was going on the Lake Placid trip as a chaperone and look where that got her. A scarring mental image. No school to go to. A big red, menacing word on her transcript. She had ever right to be worried. "Okay..." she murmured slowly. "Continue..."

"I pulled a few strings with the help of Len Rivera - boy, does that man know almost _everything_ about loopholes!"

_Of course he does_, Dylan thought snidely. _He's a lawyer._

"And after careful analysis of the school handbook and the letters from the administration, we came to the conclusion that you were most definitely expelled from your school."

"Really," her daughter said dryly. "I hadn't noticed."

Merri-Lee rolled her eyes, but continued to grin like the Chesire cat. "Buuuuuuuut," she started, staring Dylan directly in her cat-like green eyes. She was prolonging this for far too long. Suspense was not her forte. She was a flashy type of girl who was better suited to jump out of a cake than to draw things out. "You weren't expelled from _Briarwood_. Us parents sent your original applications to OCD there with recent report cards and extra -"

"WHAT?" Dylan felt lightheaded. If she were drinking water, she would've choked on it. Swallowing roughly, she croaked, "You did _what_?"

The television host's face lit up. "We sent your applications for Briarwood Academy's school board to review. Len - I mean, Mr. Rivera - wrote a nicely worded letter regarding the situation and how there was nothing in _their_ handbook that says girls were not allowed to attend their school."

"But, Mom," Dylan tried to sound calm, but she heard the hysteria loud and clear in her own voice, "that's an all-_boys_ school..."

"I'm aware, honey. But when Kendra invited all the parents out for dinner earlier in the week, we came to realization that these schools are some of the best in the country. We'd be jeopardizing your education by sending you elsewhere." Merri-Lee stood, smoothing out her skirt.

Jeopardizing their education? Since when did their parents care about their grades and their schooling? Since when did their parents _act _like parents? What could have possibly changed in the course of six days?

"We want you girls to become successful in all your future goals. OCD would have set you up for that. Briarwood will too after they've gone over your transcripts and accepted you."

Dylan blinked stupidly. "Ma, what's the catch?"

"Briarwood's superintendent is the same as OCD's. Same district and all, although there are different adults and such on the board. And although I happen to have a friend who is in charge of admissions over there, the only thing he can do, if Dr. Barbarino accepts our suggestion - and he most likely will, Len is an excellent persuader - is have you and your friends to take OCD's final tests."

"The finals? Mom, I haven't been in school since the end of May."

"And even then, he said," Merri-Lee continued as if she never opened her mouth. "With your track record, you'd need to get at least a ninety-five or above on each one to even be considered."

"A-a-a _ninety-five or above_?" Dylan spluttered. "I - that can't - the tests are in" - she craned her neck around her mother in order to check her calendar where, earlier in the year, she had circled the five important dates - "_a week and a half_!"

"Well," Merri-Lee smirked, "you better start studying, no?"

* * *

><p>ii + x.<p>

Wrinkling her nose, Alicia bent over her never-been-used textbook. Throwing her hair in a messy braid, she surveyed the room around her. To be honest, she had no idea Westchester even had a public library. Turns out it was across the street from the kindergarten center - which she didn't know was down the block from her previous school. She really needed to learn how to pay attention.

She was surrounded by rows and rows of books. The musty smell was somewhat calming. There was a nice old woman as the head librarian who kindly directed the group of five to a vacant table in order to start their studying. She still could not believe that she was being forced to take these finals. Honestly, she had been looking forward to starting new some place else, so when her father and mother sat her down to tell her their 'good news', she flipped. Why would she ever want to go to an all-boys school? This was absolutely ridiculous.

This was one of the times she really wished her parents - and her friends' parents - never got their way.

The library was crowded with so many people from OCD. Allie-Rose Singer was immersed in a tower of textbooks while her two friends texted and filed their nails. Olivia Ryan was there too, but she looked incredibly confused. Alicia's first instinct was to go up and ask her if she was alright until she realized she had to more pressing matters to attend to. Namely, the jibberish that was in this Earth Science book (like honestly how was she supposed to classify a _rock_? And even more importantly, why would she want to?).

Papers were strewn across the table, a combination of Massie's bubbly writing, Kristen's so-neat-it-should-be-a-computer-font, Dylan's chicken scratch, Claire's scrawl, and Alicia's own swirly penmanship. Each girl was busy in their own classes, those in the same subject comparing notes once their study session was up. This was the first time all five of them had been face-to-face since the terrible meeting with their principal. It was nice to see them again, but not under these circumstances.

"Oh, God," Dylan muttered, "hide me."

Kristen's head shot up. "Why?"

"Kemp and Plovert are here," she hissed in response, sliding down in her seat. Across from her, Alicia could only see the top of her fire-engine red hair. "And they brought their _awesome_ friends!"

Alicia pursed her lips, stretching her arms over her head, giving herself a reason to turn to face the automatic doors. Just as Dylan said, Kemp and Plovert were in the building, being led through the library by a less-than-amused Derrick Harrington. Cam stood at his side, flashing a smile in the librarian's direction. Josh was trailing behind all four. Something inside of her bubbled and she was more than a hundred percent positive that it was not the adorable lovey-dovey feeling she used to associate with the now-significantly-less-but-still cute boy.

If they noticed the Pretty Committee, none of them showed it. Their eyes were focused, set on the empty table in the very back of the room. Alicia watched them as they walked with their usual swagger and noticed that almost every girl in the room, save the ones she was with, stopped what they were doing to check them out. And from the smirk that was growing on Derrick's face, it was obvious they all knew exactly what was going on.

Cocky assholes.

Just as she was about to get back to her studying, Josh's head turned ever so slightly. His eyes locked with hers and she frowned, but before she could narrow them in a dangerous manner, his flickered to Claire.

She sighed angrily, scoffing. "Kuh-laire," she began sweetly. "Josh is looking at you."

"Oh." The blonde grimaced slightly, sending him an awkward half-wave.

Massie hardly moved from her position, but the tensing of her back became increasingly obvious now that Alicia knew of her and Derrick's split. She flipped the page in her book, muttering something like _ohhh, now I get it_ and took the time to write something down. Biting her lip, Alicia tried to get back to work, but nothing seemed to make sense. The words were fusing into each other - the phrase 'and so it goes' turned into 'astoes' which confused her even more.

Rubbing her forehead, Alicia concluded that school really wasn't her thing. It took so long for something to settle and even longer for her to fully comprehend it. Her father was constantly on her case about her grades. Parent-teacher conferences were the only thing he ever attended voluntarily. He was disappointed in her lack of attentiveness, but she hoped she made up for it with her journalistic tendancies. If that even made sense.

Finally, the book explained the differences between the three types of rocks, and, gleefully, she copied down the classifications. Hopefully she'd be able to get a few points on these types of questions.

"Psst."

_Sedimentary rocks are - _

"Psst. Alicia!"

- _formed by the deposition of material at the Earth's surface and within -_

A wad of paper hit her square in the back of the head. "Ow," she yelped, turning to snap at her attacker. She had been doing such a good job of ignoring their voice. Didn't they realize she didn't want to talk to them? "Watch where you throw..." Her voice trailed off when she was met with Josh's dark, mysterious eyes. She swallowed. "Watch where you throw things," she finished weakly.

"Sorry," he murmured, eyes alight with amusement. "I was aiming for your back but I guess I was too high."

She pursed her lips. "You guess?"

He offered up a half-grin. "Sorry," he proposed again. "Can you get Claire for me?"

"No problem," she replied tightly. She shifted in her seat, face contorting into one of immense dislike. "Hey, Claire?" The blonde looked up, surprised that Alicia pronounced her name normally. The latter just felt pained that it came out of her lips in that fashion. "Josh wants to talk to you. He's over there."

Claire smiled her appreciation and stood from her seat, padding towards Josh's body, which was hidden behind an aisle of books. Alicia huffed, locking her gaze on her textbook once again. This was just like Lake Placid but worse - she was now _helping _the two of them get together. Alicia Rivera never helped those she did not like.

"Take a deep breath, Leesh," Massie soothed, the first time she spoke in the past hour. "It's not worth getting angry over."

"It is, though," the beta defended, slapping her palm down on the surface of the table. The sound reverberated throughout the room. Allie-Rose searched for the source, but Alicia quickly resituated herself. Lowering her voice, she continued harshly, "How is this not something to angry over? _I _wanted him! She _knew _that."

"Just... let's get through these few exams and try to enjoy our summer vacation, okay?" Massie sounded defeated. It was odd to associate that one adjective with the go-get-'em attitude of OCD's ninth grade alpha.

Alicia took a deep breath. "I don't know how I'm going to enjoy this vacation. It's not like I have anything to look forward to!" Her voice rose slightly on the last word. Kristen seemed unperturbed, licking her thumb and forefinger to turn the page. Dylan frowned slightly, but said nothing. "Mass, you know as well as I do that we're trying to see the good in an extremely bad situation. There's no point in trying to be optimistic."

"There's always a point -" Dylan started, but Alicia waved her off, rolling her eyes.

"We're studying until our eyes droop for a bunch of tests that will determine if we get into an _all-boys_ school! Boys!" She held eye contact with Massie, who merely blinked as if this sort of thing happened often. "Normally, I'd be thrilled because I love boys, but seriously? We're headed to a school where we have no allies but ourselves. The boys we would want on our good side are already on our bad and for no reason at all! Massie, come _on_. Don't tell me you're not the least bit worried that we'll get in and we'll go there and Derrick will be -"

Massie cut her off there, placing her pen down calmly. "An alpha never expresses an emotion except absolute confidence in public, Leesh. You of all people should know that."

"Mass -"

"_Especially _when the objects in which one is discussing are in the same place."

"They're the most popular boys, though," Alicia pressed on in a rough whisper. Dylan had to lean forward in order to properly hear her. "They rule that school. We don't. Obviously the rest of the boys will follow their lead... and if they hate us, everyone will. Doesn't that frighten you in the slightest?"

Her brunette friend shrugged. "We've faced worse. I'm pretty sure we can do anything together. Anyway, didn't we agree that we'd only go to Briarwood if all of us got in? One test below a ninety-five and we're cut. Our future is determined by our grades right now."

At that, Kristen nodded furiously. "And I would like it if everyone _shut up_ so I could get in. ADD is not in my future plans."

Alicia winced at Kristen's feral tone, but nodded anyway, resuming her previous method of learning all about the various subjects in Earth Science. Even though she was drowning herself in her work, she still managed to have time to stick her foot out ever so slightly and trip Claire on her way back to her seat.

"What was that for?" she hissed, almost tumbling into her seat.

"Huh?" Alicia asked, widing her eyes innocently. "I don't know what you're..."

"You tripped me," accused Claire. Alicia was shocked the normally shy, out-spoken girl was standing up for herself. If she weren't so annoyed with her very presence, she'd be impressed. It wasn't every day someone spoke to her in that tone.

"Did I?" she questioned, unable to stop the devious smirk from forming on her face. "Whoops."

"I don't know what I ever did to you to make you this nasty to me, but I'd like for it to stop." Claire's gaze was unwavering, not even the slightest trace of fear was hiding in her blue orbs.

The Latina snorted. "You don't know what you did? Okay, Kuh-laire, let me enlighten you." Clearing her throat, she tried to control the powerful anger she was feeling. "You _made out_ with Josh _after _I told you I liked him, kay? You didn't tell me. You cheated on your boyfriend. That was your first mistake. Second, once we tried to get over our animosity, you went after him again. So, I do have a reason to be nasty."

"You were flirting with _Cam_," Claire hissed, "and you knew very well that I still liked him."

"If you liked him enough, you wouldn't have cheated on him."

"I told you already: _it was an accident_."

Alicia cackled. "As many times as you try to tell me that, I can't wrap my head around it. Care to explain to me how that plays out?"

"_Guys_," Kristen stressed through gritted teeth, "remember that we are in a _library_."

"So?"

"So normally we talk in our indoor voices or _not at all_," Kristen snapped. "And I'm trying to study. If you two want to fight it out, go outside."

Claire crossed her arms over her chest. "_I_ don't want to do anything. I want to get good grades on these tests too. I'm staying here whether Alicia wants to get into a screaming match over something I regret doing or not."

"All I'm asking is for an explanation." Alicia spoke slowly. With every word, she squeezed the edge of her seat until her knuckles were white. She was very much aware where she was and who was around her, but honestly, who wasn't expecting a huge fight to erupt? It had been a long time since the Pretty Committee physically yelled at each other and considering past events, their peers had to be expecting one soon. A month without a Pretty Committee fight was not an entertaining month at all. "I'm not trying to start anything, Claire. Every time I ask how it was an 'accident'," she air-quoted snidely, "you get defensive. Ever stop to think that perhaps I'm just curious?"

The blonde rolled her eyes, blowing her overgrown bangs out of her face. "You always have a motive, Alicia. What makes this any different?"

"I'm naturally curious." Alicia flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Remember that I'm always hungry for gossip? All I want to know is how it turned out to be an accident because last I checked, kissing is never an accident."

"You're just finding a way to turn this around so it looks like I did it on purpose -"

"But you did, didn't you?"

Massie cleared her throat. In a normal, every day occurence, that would halt any conversation. Alicia was on a roll, however, and barely heard her best friend's order for silence. In fact, she didn't care that she was probably going to get reprimanded for her actions in public, she was so close to hearing what she wanted that she didn't care in the slightest.

Claire took a deep breath, her cheeks turning pink in her irritation. "I..."

"Wait, you don't have to answer that," Alicia interrupted, smiling coyly. "Because I already know the answer. Yes. You did."

"Okay," the blonde finally said. "I'll bite. The first time, I didn't, but the second time, I did, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm sick and tired of you _always_ getting your way. For once, you couldn't understand the fact that someone didn't want you. How hard is it for you comprehend the fact that while people may think you're hot, they don't like your personality? You're a bitch, Alicia, and it was high time someone finally -"

"_Claire_," Massie spat meaningfully. "If we're about to point fingers and call people names, why don't we discuss the fact that you promised you would get in contact with us when you could but when you were in possession of a phone, you texted _Josh_ of all people."

With the alpha now in the middle of it, Claire didn't seem so hot. She swallowed roughly, biting her lip. "I didn't - it seemed like the rational thing to - and I -"

"Oh, for the love of God, will you just shut _up_ for once?" Alicia hissed.

The blonde narrowed her eyes. "Do you always have to create some sort of fight? Is this where you get your excitement from because I suggest taking up another hobby -"

"Like boy stealing? Nah, I'll pass. Seems like you have a lot of fun doing it all by yourself -"

"Oh, _wait_," Claire feigned innocence. "I forgot. You already have something to do in your spare time! What do they call making promises and deliberately breaking them?"

Alicia fought the urge to chortle with amusement. "What does that even mean, Clairebear?"

"It means you told Josh you'd give me a message and you purposely didn't!"

"Well, obviously! What kind of idiot would think I'd do that?"

"An idiot who thought you were my friend!"

"Well," Alicia snapped, leaning forward until she could practically smell the anger and fear Claire's body reeked of, "they. Thought. Wrong."

Claire gritted her teeth. "You're a -"

"Go on," the Latina goaded. "Tell me what I am. Throw my personality right back in my face. If you're trying to hurt me, that's not going to work. I know exactly who I am and what I do - I wouldn't change it for the world."

"Really now? Boys only like you for your _body_, Alicia. You're pretty well-endowed and that's all they like about you. They like to _look_ at you and that's it."

"At least I have a body worth looking at! You're nothing but a lanky stringbean who has nothing going for her except for the fact that you can pig on candy and not gain a single pound."

"I have a likeable _personality_. You're mean and that's all you're ever going to be -"

"Why do I feel like I'm getting into an argument with Taylor Swift?" questioned Alicia rhetorically, chuckling slightly at her own semi-joke. "Are you going to write a song about me and how I wronged you?"

Claire opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Kristen closed her textbook with an earth-shattering force and stood up abruptly from her seat. If people weren't already staring at the fight, they most certainly were now. Out of the five of them, Kristen had the most patience.

"I don't think you understand how important this is for me," she snapped, dropping the hushed tone she had scolded them with earlier. "Despite the fact that we all agreed we'd do this together, if I pass these tests will flying colors, which I plan on, I will be taking this opportunity. I don't want to go to Abner Double Day. I don't want to be homeschooled. My education is riding on these grades and if _any _of you ruin my chances of getting taught properly, there _will _be hell to pay, got it?" She threw one last furious glance Alicia and Claire's way before shoving her things in her tote and marching off and out of the library sitting area.

The automated doors closed behind her, the sounds of cars racing by filling the silent room. Someone whistled from behind the group of four, but Alicia hardly cared who it was. Muttering insults at the blonde under her breath, Alicia followed Kristen's lead. There was no way she was going to sit in the same room as Claire Lyons, let alone breathe the same air.

* * *

><p>i + ii + iii + iv + x.<p>

On June twenty-fourth, at exactly twelve thirty-three in the afternoon, the Blocks, Riveras, Marvils, Gregorys, and Lyonses all got the same automatic message on their answering machines.

"On behalf of our principal, Dean Don, I would like to congratulate you on a job well done. Your transcripts have been reviewed and your final grades have been assessed. We look forward to seeing you at Briarwood Academy on the fifth of September where you will be properly welcomed into the Tomahawk family. We'll be in touch soon before your summer is over. Until then, remain safe and enjoy your break."


	5. four

thank you for the reviews you guys! the plot will get started very soon c: but first i wanna respond to those reviewers i have that i can't pm!

_mrsmalinsoraynes_—you'll see what happens with alicia. she's one of the first storylines i had developed. claire's not my favorite at all, but she has her own problems and such and i always wanted to incorporate todd in there. i think he'd actually grow up a little more than claire would.

_mapped out—_thank you for your long review! i love those :3 i tried so hard to make them all seem human and i'm really glad i managed to do that while trying to stay true to their characters. they'll eventually stop being that way but that's inevitable since they will have to go through many situations in which they will learn more than a few things. the pairings will be kept secret until they can't be hidden any longer ;)

_Raquell—_thank you!

* * *

><p>It took nothing but a tan and a two month break from her hometown to get Massie Block back in her groove. Regardless of how she felt a mere twelve weeks ago, she had plenty of things to focus on now. She was officially a high school sophomore. No longer was she part of the 'fresh meat' as the senior girls liked to call them, but rather a step ahead. It may sound trivial, but she was absolutely thrilled. She had never actually been at the bottom of anything before; the high school hierarchy worked in ways she did not approve of, making the freshmen last for almost everything appealing. With sophomore year came a bunch of new experiences and events. There would no doubt be things she could do now that she was in tenth grade—classes, trips, etc. More importantly, sophomore year meant turning sixteen and that in itself had many meanings.<p>

If there was a section for something even more important than turning the big one-six, she would definitely put this latest development in. Due to events in the previous year, she, and the rest of the Pretty Committee, would be attending Briarwood Academy... for _boys_. Hopping from one private school to another would be exciting if she were not rattling with first day nerves. Unfortunately, along with those circumstances that caused the five to end up where they were, they lost contact with the only boys who really mattered in their grade. Derrick Harrington, Cam Fisher, Josh Hotz, Chris Plovert and Kemp Hurley wanted nothing to do with the Pretty Committee. They made that completely obvious when they unceremoniously found different ways to bring the girls to their lowest points. Dylan had been sent pig pictures due to her ease at eating wherever she very well pleased. Alicia and Claire fought over a situation regarding Cam and Josh, leaving for their respective vacations on a terrible, silent note. Massie, herself, had been dumped for being too 'immature.' Kristen was probably the only girl who got by unscathed, but that didn't change the fact that neither of those boys had taken a romantic liking to her.

Shaking her head, Massie removed the cloud of negativity from above her and twirled in front of her mirror. Her figure appeared in different angles, tanned to perfection and as slim as ever. With a slight grimace, she pulled at the end of her skirt before turning to her small black pug. "So, whaddya think, Bean?"

Her tiny dog yelped once.

"I know, I know," she admitted tiredly. "This isn't what I would normally wear... ever, but it's mandatory."

Bean let out a legitimate bark, jumping from his comfortable spot on her pillow. His pink tongue lapped at Massie's exposed heel twice, Puppy Talk for _You look great_. The brunette smiled, bending down to scratch behind his ears, listening to him pant and wag his tail fiercely.

"You think?"

He cocked his head in the mirror, tongue dangling.

She smirked slightly. "I know, it's not like me to doubt myself but this is a big deal, Bean. This isn't just any school I'm going to. This is a _boys_ school, full of nothing but boys. The girls and I are going to be the only females in the entire building." She readjusted her Briarwood tie, frowning at the stuffy look it gave off. "Do you think it's silly of me to be nervous?"

Bean pressed his wet nose to her ankle, looking up at her with big eyes.

"Think we'll be able to dominate like usual?" She wrinkled her nose at her appearance once more, feeling like those girls that went to the Catholic school on the other side of town. When her parents decided to send her credentials to Briarwood, couldn't they have warned her in advance that she would have to wear a uniform? All the new clothes she bought would only see the light of day after classes and on the weekends. It was a sad, sad moment when fashion had a specific time slot. "Wait a second, Bean, don't answer that. That was silly. I know we will. After all, we're the Pretty Committee, are we not?"

Her dog barked three times, ran in a circle, and collapsed back on her bed, shoving his nose everywhere he could. If her dog had faith, she could most definitely do this. Her insides fluttered again, but this time the feeling was recognizable. She was back. Ruthless Massie Block was here to stay.

With one last fleeting look at herself in the floor-length mirror, she grabbed her gray knee length socks in one hand and her black flats in the other before shutting the light and making her way downstairs.

Surprisingly enough, her parents were mulling about the kitchen. William was buttering toast at his spot at the head of the table. Kendra was pouring herself yet another cup of coffee. Inez was surprisingly absent. Maybe they gave her the day off. Pausing to slip into seat and pull her socks and shoes on, Massie reached across the table to fill her glass with orange juice. She felt nervous-sick and deemed herself unable to eat anything, so she was settling for at least getting _something_ in her stomach.

"Oh, don't you look cute," Kendra commented lightly, placing her mug on the table. "Why didn't OCD have uniforms again?"

"They wanted to give girls the freedom to express themselves," Massie replied robotically. She felt like she had said this numerous times before, which she had, because of the whole dress-code debacle last October. "Provided they did so according to their limitations."

William looked up, taking a bite of his breakfast. "Uniforms make everything easier," he commented. "Loosen the tie, though, pal. You look like you're choking."

Hastily, Massie pulled down on the offending article of clothing until it was as far away from her neck as possible. It hung loosely in a more fashionable manner. She didn't look like she belonged in an office anymore.

"Eat," Kendra urged. "You have a big day ahead of you. You're going to need to be energized for it."

"I think the orange juice will be enough... Mom, what are you doing?" Kendra was piling eggs, toast, and fresh fruit on to the china plate before her. "Mom, I'm going to live—"

"You need to eat three square meals a day."

"Kendra," William chuckled, sending a meaningful look her way. Massie failed to catch what he was trying to say to her mother, but thought nothing of it and took another long sip of her drink. "Leave her be. If she doesn't want to eat, she doesn't have to. Take something for the road, alright? Just in case."

Massie nodded, draining her cup. She checked the time on her phone, standing up as soon as the horn honked outside. "I better get going. I'll see you after school?"

"I'll be here," affirmed her mother.

Her father smiled a little sadly at her. "I won't be home until you've already gone to bed. Sorry, bud."

Massie shrugged indifferently, used to her parents' inattentiveness. William was always working and Kendra, although she might be home, was always off online shopping or gossiping on the phone. Inez and Isaac had practically raised her.

She hoisted her school bag on to her shoulder and allowed her mother to smother her despite the growing awkwardness. After a thorough once over and a hand smoothing over her hair, Massie was allowed to leave, her parents calling a 'good luck!' behind her. Even though her walk was confident and her head was held high, she knew she would need it.

Isaac was waiting in the circular driveway as soon as she stepped outside. It still smelled like summer, something Massie already missed. She yearned to be back at her house in the Hamptons, or even in Greece, the big trip her father had surprised the family with. She wanted to continue lying outside next to the pool, taking in the sun's rays, sipping—not virgin, no matter how many times she convinced Kendra that they were—piña coladas and a variety of drinks to that nature. Just yesterday, she was painting her nails by her favorite tree in the backyard—the one with the hammock—with a tall glass of ice cold lemonade and her favorite magazines, declaring what fashion trends she decided were Massie-approved and which ones she would rather die than be caught in. Here she was, the day directly after, up at the most ungodly hour just to make sure she looked good on her first day of school.

"Good morning, Massie," her driver greeted, smiling warmly. "As I told Claire before, these outfits are quite the surprise."

The brunette returned with a grin of her own. "I'm well aware, Isaac. Even Bean was concerned this morning. I feel stuffy."

"You look beautiful as always," he complimented. "You'll knock all those boys dead."

"You flatter me so," she teased, opening the car door and sliding into her normal seat. Something was off, however, and she could tell this by the extra presence she felt. Across from her, as usual, was Claire, dressed exactly as Massie was, with her hair in a long French braid that fell just below her shoulders. Her eyes were lined with black pencil, making them pop, as she purposely ignored the other similarly dressed person beside her. "Todd? What are you doing here?"

He winked at her, looking up from his phone, even though his thumbs still scurried across the keyboard. "We go to the same school now, sweet thang."

She wrinkled her nose at his statement. _Sweet thang_? What the hell? Had he spent his entire summer hanging out with Kemp? "I'm unfortunately aware of that but that doesn't really explain why you're in my car..."

The engine started behind her. Isaac changed the radio station, which had been playing an old song she hadn't heard since sixth grade, to something equivalent to a morning talk show. The weather was supposed go as high as ninety-four and would stay that way, only falling to a whopping low of eighty-nine. God, her desire to be by the pool was uncanny.

"About that," Claire answered in a heartbeat, "since we're headed to the same place, my parents decided Todd got hitch a ride now. Dad says it'll save him time in the morning. And gas."

Massie groaned, something that seemed to excite Todd even more, and shoved his legs back on the floor. "Seeing as I had absolutely no choice in the matter and my parents will most likely agree, you can stay." He grinned cheekily. "_But_ we have a few ground rules here. First, you do not hog the seats considering we have to fit three more girls before we make our final stop. Feet on the floor for the duration of the ride, got it?"

He nodded, saluting her. "Aye, aye, Captain."

"Don't call me that."

"Alright, sweet than—"

"Don't call me that either," she snapped in disgust. "Second, whatever we say in here is to _stay _here. I'm sure you're aware we gossip like there is no tomorrow, so if you do decide to pay attention to us, you must swear to never spill a word of it outside of these walls—wheels... whatever. Not even if we mention one of your friend's names. If I find out that you blabbed about something secretive, I will make sure you can never have children. Are we understood?"

"God, you are so hot when you're threatening me," he breathed, staring at her as if he had just seen her for the first time.

"Um... ew." Massie shared a look with Claire, who rolled her eyes and mouthed, 'sorry' before effectively slapping Todd upside the head. "Don't say anything stupid. If it sounds weird in your head, it most likely is. Keep your mouth shut. Don't comment on how we look, but never say we look bad. If you feel the need to address any of us, make sure it's before we get absorbed in what anyone else has to say or we will castrate you." She sucked her cheeks in, blowing the air out slowly. "That's it. If you follow these, I might actually enjoy incorporating you into my carpool."

Just like every good deal, she held her hand out for a shake. Todd looked at it in confusion, almost like he had never seen one before in his life, and grinned again, "How about a kiss instead?"

She snorted. "Nice try."

Todd didn't seem too upset he didn't get his way. "A kid can dream, can't he?"

The car came to a stop outside the open iron gates of Alicia's manor. Isaac honked once, alerting the raven-haired beauty of their presence. Jumping up from her spot on the bench outside her front door, the newly-turned fifteen year old slowly made her way to the awaiting vehicle, tucking her hair behind her ear. Massie took this time to assess the way Alicia fashioned her uniform. While Claire went with the bare legs and tiny sandals and she, herself, wore flats and the optional socks, Alicia rocked dark tights and, from what Massie could see, three inch heels that matched the exact color on her tie. The look would have been a bit too matchy if she had not buttoned her blazer to hide the full accessory from view.

Todd craned his neck, shooting up in his seat. Claire swatted him back down, sending him a meaningful glance. "Aw, Claire, why do you do this to me?"

"You remember the rules," she bit back. "I know what you're going to do."

"I can't tell her she looks gorgeous?"

"You can," Alicia grinned, sliding into her seat on the left side of Massie. "And I might say that you look positively adorable this morning."

His cheeks flushed, her words momentarily silencing him.

Sharing a wink with Massie, Alicia dropped her bag full of color-coded folders and notebooks by her feet. "Are you excited to be a freshman?"

He shrugged. "Nah. It's the same as before. No excitement here."

"That's what you think."

Massie wasn't sure why she was talking so much with Todd, but she didn't want to force the matter. For once, it felt like they were all friends again despite the fact that there was still some obvious friction between Claire and Alicia. They had tried to put the past behind them after the girls returned back home, but Alicia had once explained it as being slapped in the face every time the blonde picked up her phone. Claire had admitted to staying in touch with Josh, even after she told him fairly that she had no feelings towards him whatsoever. Massie found it hard to believe—why would someone with no attachment giggle and smile at a text as often as Claire did?

The next five minutes were a blur of 'good morning!' and 'I _love_ what you did with your uniform'! Kristen and Dylan hopped into the car in a flurry of floral and sweet perfumes, also taking bold steps with their forced outfits of choice. The redhead ditched the normal tie, settling, instead, for one in the shape of a bow. Kristen was flaunting the nerdy-chic look, wearing not the blazer the other four (and Todd) were sporting, but the navy sweater with the Briarwood emblem on the chest, the collar of a white button up peeking out from the neck.

"Are you ready for this guys?" Massie asked, eyeing her fabulously dressed friends. She knew they had the ability to pull of the whole uniform thing, especially because they added their own special twists to the rather boring ensemble.

"I was born ready," Alicia replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Kristen shrugged. "I have to be. I can't lose _another_ scholarship."

"It's just another school we'll eventually rule, no?" Dylan smirked, chewing her gum rather loudly.

Claire was the only one who didn't speak, focusing her attention on the scenery as they passed. Her phone rested on her thighs. Before this day, Massie was able to read her friend like a book; the blonde normally had her heart on her sleeve, her emotions bared for all to see. Lately, it had been getting harder and harder to figure out what she was thinking. Claire seemed to be a completely different person ever since she retaliated against Alicia's attempts at bitter revenge. The alpha had no idea who she was anymore.

That bothered her an unexplainable amount. With this new side of Claire, there was no doubt voiced. There was no way to pump the rest of the girls for the beginning of what could potentially be the end without Claire's constant worrying. If Massie brought up the boys and mentioned how awkward it might be, they would assume she was nervous regarding the whole ordeal. Of course she didn't want them to know that. It was her job to keep them from panicking—but who was supposed to keep her calm?

It was even weirder that the Range Rover, instead of turning right at the intersection at Rosewood and Palm, went left, weaving in and out of unfamiliar streets, passing by the prettiest and hugest houses in this section of Westchester. Massie vaguely remembered that Derrick's house was just down that block, but she didn't turn her head to look. She had been on this side of town only twice before: when she and the girls wanted to spy on her then-crush Chris Abeley and when she and Derrick went on a walk around all of Westchester.

Wrinkling her nose, she felt the car slow to a stop. In front of them was a line of other expensive vehicles with turn signals on, waiting to get into the lot of Briarwood Academy. The Hogwarts-like castle was nothing short of intimidating. It was beautiful, none the less, but it gave off a certain... _feeling_ that made Massie's skin crawl. This could be the worst or it could be the best. It was unknown, mysterious, and _that_ is what made her uncomfortable.

"I never thought I'd actually have to see the inside of this place," Kristen commented idly, picking at her manicure, the tale-tell sign of her anxiety.

"At least we'll get first pick of all the boys," Alicia rebuked, her eyes glittering. "They'll see us every day - versus the possible-but-don't-count-on-it encounters back with the OCD girls."

Dylan nodded enthusiastically. "Truer words have never been spoken, Leesh. Now that I'm proudly a size two, I'm in dire need of some arm candy."

"We should focus on surviving before we even think about boys," Kristen disagreed. "Think of all the work we'll have to do when school starts getting busy. Junior year is right around the corner—there are SATs and ACTs and—"

"Kris, don't even think about college right now." Alicia patted her knee. "We're sophomores. Worry about it when the time comes."

"But—"

"I do agree partially with what Kristen has to say," Massie cut in, the car officially now in the parking lot. "Let's focus not on surviving but on ruling this school just as we had OCD. Now that we're officially out of there, the girls will think that someone else, someone _better_, can take over. We have to show them that no matter where we go, we're still the only girls up for the job."

Alicia sighed. "Come _on_, Mass," she whined. "We're in a school full of _boys_. We're obviously going to climb the social ladder rather quickly, why not investigate the male population while we do it?"

"What happened to the girl who was terrified of going to school here?" the alpha shot back. Their car was the next in line. She needed to convince them to drop the hunt for new crushes in about three minutes. "In case you have all forgotten, there are five guys here who want absolutely nothing to do with us. And unfortunately, they are the equivalent of us. I hate to say it, but they may actually have the power to crush us."

"Are you afraid?" Alicia questioned, quirking an eyebrow. "After the time I spent away from Westchester, I got passed my insecurities. Josh doesn't want me? Okay. I'm cool with it. Someone else will. I can't believe I'm alive to witness the day where _you_, of all people, are _afraid_."

Massie rolled her eyes. "I'm not afraid," she snapped. "We just have to think of all the possibilities. That's one of them. We could walk in there and be fawned all over. They might love seeing us every day, enjoy the fact that it's _us_ and not any other girls. On the _other_ hand, there's the fact that they might not want anything to do with us because we're different and interfering at their school." The car was put into park. "After all we've been through, I would have expected you to understand that not everyone loves us."

"We're here," Isaac announced.

"Thank you," Massie replied. "Are you ready?"

Dylan licked her lips. Kristen fidgeted, gazing outside the window. Alicia smoothed down her hair, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. Claire made no motion, but that wasn't a surprise; she hadn't voiced her opinion in the fifteen minutes it had taken them to pick up the girls and get to the school. Massie hoped she had at least deterred them from their conquests for the time being. Crushes and boyfriends could wait; being on top was much more important.

"I know I am," Todd stated, unbuckling his seatbelt, "and if you want me to show you where to go before everyone else gets in there and turns everything into chaos, I suggest you get a move on."


	6. five

I'm getting to the point where I'm running out of prewritten chapters and I'm also at a dead-end in which way I want to take this story. See, I have it mapped out—sorta—but my interests (and particularly short attention span) have taken me to the Harry Potter fandom, where I've been burying myself in those fanfics. Eventually, I'm going to have to favor a certain three Pretty Committee girls, which I hate to do for each has their own storyline, but I need to start up a few before this story gets awfully boring. You'll see who my favorites are soon.

Thank you for the reviews!

* * *

><p>The boys that were already at the school, whether it be for sports, schedule pick-up, or the like, watched the Pretty Committee as they followed the younger Lyons through the courtyard and into the building. Alicia barely had time to marvel over the immense beauty of the halls, flirtatiously waving at the nameless faces she passed. So what if Massie said to focus on ruling? She could rule <em>and <em>have a little fun at the same time.

"It's so pretty," Claire decided, finally opening her mouth.

Alicia inwardly grimaced, wishing the blonde had not spoken. Even though they were on somewhat good terms, she still couldn't get over the fact that someone wanted _Claire_ over her. She could not find anything that made her any better than Alicia herself.

"Yeah," Kristen agreed, head bobbing in all directions. "I think I may even like it better than OCD."

"I wouldn't say that." Dylan shook her head. "I'm more partial to the other layout. Maybe it's just because I know where everything is."

"I like the lockers," the sporty blonde continued. Alicia's eyes, now that the corridors were empty, buzzed about the area, taking everything in. She vaguely heard her friends gushing over the color scheme and lighting, making her own opinions about the place.

Yes, there was a major difference. That didn't mean it wasn't lovely. The lockers on the right wall were a deep navy color while the others on the wall opposite were a smooth maroon, the shades that made up the school and Briarwood's uniforms. Legitimate trash cans were stationed in various places. Everything was shined to perfection. The floor was tiled in a more modern way than OCD and there were no huge Van Goghs or Picassos hanging due to massive amounts of donations.

She wondered if Dean Don even took money like Principal Burns did.

"This way," Todd's voice piped up. "Just so you know, once you walk in through the front, you go straight until you come to this lobby type area and turn down at _this _corner. Just remember the bulletin board."

The girls followed him, their unique assortment of shoes clicking and clacking. Three doors appeared on their left explained by Todd as the main office, the nurse, and the guidance counsellor's offices. He turned the knob for the one in the middle, pushed the door open, and strolled in.

"Hey, Lydia," he said nicely, leaning up against the counter separating the two halves of the room. "How was your summer?"

The middle-aged woman smiled at him, dabbling in conversation for a bit. Her summer consisted of taking care of her young children and attending a wedding for her niece, who married _the nicest man_ she had ever met. She had pictures, if Todd was interested, and he was. She invited him to come by during one of his off periods before asking what he was doing at school so early.

"You must've heard that we were getting five new students," he replied, speaking in a tone that indicted this was the biggest gossip since Olivia Ryan's first nose job.

Lydia nodded. "It's been spreading around here like wildfire."

"Well, I have the pleasure of introducing you to them." He gestured towards the five girls whom of which stood awkwardly at the door. "The blonde one with the braid is my sister. Her name is Claire."

"My!" The woman clapped her hands once, holding them close to her heart. "It's _so_ nice to have other women here! I wasn't aware the new students would be like them!"

"It was on the down low for a while," Massie spoke, stepping forward. "I'm Massie. Massie Block." She extended her palm across the counter.

Alicia admired her best friend's forwardness. She was already making sure someone in the office knew of them. It was a good thing Lydia seemed to enjoy the fact that they were female like her. Maybe ruling this school wouldn't be so bad. Having someone on the inside would be a good thing, even if she was just—from the looks of it—merely a secretary.

"It's nice to meet you, Massie Block," the auburn woman greeted, shaking her hand. "I've heard so many wonderful things about your family."

Todd slipped by them, making a lost comment on how he was going to go to his locker and prepare himself for school. If they needed anything (which he hoped they didn't), he would be on the second floor.

"Who are the rest of your friends?"

Massie grinned, turning towards them. "From left to right, they are Claire Lyons, Dylan Marvil, Kristen Gregory, and Alicia Rivera."

"Ah, I finally get the pleasure of meeting the young Miss Marvil. Your mother's talk show is my favorite thing to wake up to."

Dylan smiled politely. "I'll make sure to tell her that. She loves to hear from fans."

"I followed the Connor Foley and Abby Boyd lawsuit for weeks," she gushed to Alicia, who sighed deeply. "Your father is quite the lawyer."

She absolutely hated it when people discussed her parents and their professions. It didn't matter to her what they did. They got her out of tough spots on more than one occassion, but in regards to her schooling, this woman should _not _be speaking of her father's most famous of cases.

Still, she laughed as freely as she could. "It's always been his dream to be one," she explained, "and I'm just happy he's pursuing his goals. He's a great role model."

Lydia nodded enthusiastically as if she really understood everything Alicia was saying. The Latina doubted it, considering the woman was working as a secretary for an elite private school in Westchester County, New York. It was obvious that she was already living through the Pretty Committee and she only knew a few of their parents because they were famous. Even more so, Alicia's reporter-like senses could tell that she was just itching to find out what five well-off girls were doing in a boys school. Where boys normally went, not girls.

She would without a doubt enjoy that story. Her expression would most likely be priceless, but Massie would not let that experience slip. They were to keep that to themselves until the very last moment. Those who knew why they were there were supposed to. There was no point in spreading it around. It wasn't like it was a heroic tale or something to be applauded. They disobeyed rules and ran into a forest. Not that exciting.

"Dean Don is currently taking a phone call. You girls can sit there and wait until he is ready for you." Right underneath the window rested five cushions where the Pretty Committee sat silently, waiting for their new principal to summon them into his office. "And," Lydia continued, smiling perkily, "on behalf of the rest of the staff, I welcome you to Briarwood Academy. I hope you enjoy yourselves."

"We will," Dylan replied with a tight smile.

She went back to her desk in the far right corner, busying herself with paperwork and computer things, ducking her head away from the girls and their vacant expressions. The redhead elbowed Alicia lightly, rolling her eyes. "So ridiculous," she whispered into her ear.

"_Your mother's talk show is my favorite thing to wake up to_," Alicia mocked, giggles protruding out of her glossed lips.

"Leesh, did you know your father is _quite_ the lawyer?" Dylan shot back, green eyes twinkling with amusement. She casually checked to see if Lydia was watching them, but the coast was clear; the woman was still puttering around her desk, inserting things into her computer. Quiet music filled the room, so low Alicia couldn't figure out what it was.

"Guys," Claire began softly, blue eyes piercing. "Be nice. She was only trying to make conversation."

"It's funny that _you're _the one telling me to be nice," the raven-haired beauty scoffed, crossing her incredibly long legs at the ankle, giving herself the opportunity to admire her shoes. They had been a birthday present from her cousins in Spain, shipped to her house just last week, the day after she turned fifteen. It was unfortunate that none of her friends were home to celebrate, but she figured it wasn't that much of a big deal. Besides, she could always throw a party later in the month if she felt like it. "When was the last time you took your own advice?"

The look on the blonde's face was hard to determine, but Alicia wasn't going out of her way to examine it. She didn't want her eyes to burst into flames. "Are you still going to hold this over me? I apologized. I told you there was nothing between Josh and I—"

"Really?" Alicia smirked. She might not want Josh all to herself anymore—a summer full of other extremely worthy boys between the ages of fifteen and sixteen made sure of that—but she wanted nothing more than to make Claire feel as uncomfortable as possible. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Claire replied automatically. She nervously turned her head, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger.

Alicia fought the huge, shit-eating grin threatening to form on her face. _Bingo_. "A hundred percent positive?"

Dylan let out a low whistle, watching her as she fidgeted under Alicia's stare.

"Of course I am," she finally replied. "I'm pretty sure I would know if I were dating someone."

"You would know," Alicia agreed, casually picking an invisible piece of lint off her blazer, "but we wouldn't." Massie's eyes flitted over to her form, leaving their intense staring contest with the plaque on the principal's door. Kristen tapped her shoe against the floor.

"Are you saying that I'm hiding something?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." A slight accent formed around her words, something that only occurred when she was overly emotional or getting to the heart of some big matter. "And for once, I want to hear it from _you_ and no one else. Right now. Not months or weeks after the fact." She paused, holding Claire's gaze, successfully making the blonde look away. "Are you dating Josh Hotz?"

Claire swallowed, squeezing her phone. "Yes."

Dylan coughed loudly. "_What_?"

"I knew it," Alicia muttered, unable to figure out why she was feeling so down. She was over Josh, even if a little tiny bit of her heart still flooded with hope every so often.

"When?" Massie demanded, crossing her arms.

"You guys were all away already," the fifth member of the Pretty Committee explained shakily, staring at the floor. "I had two weeks until we were going back to Florida, so I was left all alone to hang out with Layne—"

Alicia snickered. "That's unfortunate."

"—and I was still talking to Josh after the whole Placid thing because he was still concerned about my punishment," Claire ignored Alicia's jab, nibbling on her bottom lip. "And since we were friends and all, he asked me if I wanted to go with him and his little sister to get ice cream. It sort of just... happened."

"You've been dating him for almost _three months_ and you failed to tell me?" Massie accused, eyes narrowing. "Three months you've been in a relationship and you _didn't—_"

"I couldn't just tell you! It's not that simple."

"Not that simple, huh?" Massie spat, rolling her eyes. "Are you serious right now? Best friends are supposed to tell each other everythi—"

Lydia's voice cut through the spat. "Girls? Dean Don is ready for you."

Without a second glance, Massie stood up and marched into the principal's office, Claire following slowly behind her. Alicia smiled slightly, thrilled at the way all these things were playing out. Drama was her favorite. Anything that got Claire into some sort of trouble made her day, especially since she was dating the one boy Alicia had legitimately liked. Skank.

Dean Don's office was nothing like Principal Burns'. It was more familiar and welcoming. Newspaper articles were framed on the walls with headlines such as _Briarwood Soccer Team Takes Home the Gold — Again_ and other things like that. Trophies and awards dating back to the sixties were locked behind glass cabinets. The curtains were shut tightly, the only light coming from the chandelier above the desk where Dean Don sat. His Mac was powered on; a few books were situated to the right of it. When Kristen closed the door, he looked up.

"Welcome, ladies, welcome!" he announced grandly. "I'm glad our uniforms could be tailored to your liking."

"We're very thankful you could get us some skirts," Massie replied. "Much better fit than those pants."

"I admit I was a bit skeptical. Girls in an all-boys school? It sounded crazy, but I'm glad we gave in to the requests. I'm sure you ladies will fit in wonderfully here."

"You hardly know us," Dylan stated, "but thank you for your faith."

"Please, please take a seat." He waved them to the five chairs before his desk. The girls piled into them, Alicia making sure she was as far away from Claire as possible, and looked at him imploringly. School started in twenty minutes. "First and foremost, let me welcome you to our fine establishment. Briarwood Academy was founded in nineteen twenty after the first World War in order to give young soldiers an education. Eventually, we opened our doors to boys of all ages, races, and nationalities to create the school you now know today. I'm proud to say that you five are the first girls to walk these halls, learning here and calling this place home. I'm honored to be the principal to see this all happen."

Kristen shifted in her seat. "Do you not approve of the separation of boys and girls?"

"I came from a public school that kept everyone together," he explained. "I think that keeping both sexes apart isn't right. There's no way to have proper interaction if you're not in the same school for twelve years. Although teachers will tell you otherwise, school _is_ for socializing. It teaches you how to become friends with people and create bonds and relationships that last a lifetime. It prepares you for the real world. Boys and girls should not be separated."

"That's very true," Dylan agreed, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "but I do believe that it is a good thing we're not together all the time. It cuts down on a lot of tension. Girls are catty, yes, but when boys are thrown in the mix, we're a lot worse."

"Should I be worried about you girls?"

Massie laughed. "Of course not," she replied, "we're all best friends here. We would never do some of the things other girls have done back at OCD. We're in this together."

Alicia heard the others murmur their agreement, but couldn't bring herself to do the same. She adored the original Pretty Committee, but Claire? They could do without her. She wasn't a necessity. In fact, the Latina only believed she was bring the group's creditability down. She wasn't anything special like the rest of them. Massie was a natural-born leader with charismatic qualities and a whole lot of charm. Alicia, herself, was a dancer and brought them the exotic factor they would be lacking if she were not part of the group. Dylan was the jokester of the bunch with flaming red hair people loved and a personality to die for. Kristen was athletic, smart, and an all-around great person. Claire... she was _too_ sweet and was somewhat talented with a camera. She didn't belong with girls like them.

"Great." Dean Don sifted through papers on his desk. "I'm keeping your word. I don't want any disruptions. We're a school that prides itself on good grades and excellent sports teams. I expect you to help us keep that image, not bring it down."

"We will," Kristen commented. "You can count on us."

"Very well. I have copies of your schedules right here..." He pushed forward a stack of five papers, the girls' names bolded on the top. "I put you all in the same first period so you wouldn't feel uncomfortable in a new school, especially since you would be surrounded by a bunch of boys. Your locker numbers and combos are in the top right corner."

Alicia glanced over it, Dean Don's words going in one ear and right out the other. Her list of classes didn't seem that overbearing. Thank God she started the day with art, though, meaning she had time to wake up and gossip with her friends before the harder subjects came along. Hopefully they all had the same lunch period as well.

"Is the school hard to navigate?" Claire questioned, folding her schedule in half.

"Once you figure out where everything is, no," the principal replied, "but I did schedule for one of our student council members to show you around. He should be here any minute now."

Student council member? _Ugh_, some dork was going to show them around the school? Lovely.

"Leesh!" Massie called. "What's your schedule look like?"

"Uh." She squinted down. "Art, math, science, lunch, English, woodshop, social—wait, _woodshop_? Why am I taking woodshop?"

Dean Don looked over at them impassively. "You needed an extra class in order to have the credits to graduate this year and since we don't have the electives you were taking at OCD, this is what we came up with."

Alicia blinked. "Excuse me, I hate to be rude, but... do I look like a girl who would take _woodshop_?"

"It was a simple random match," he explained. "Each of you has a class like that."

"I don't," Claire piped up. "I just have art in the morning. Is there something wrong with my schedule?"

Alicia sighed angrily. "_Of course _you don't," she muttered.

"No, everything is in order, Miss Lyons," Dean Don answered, typing on his computer. "According to your transcript, you took a lot of classes at your school back in Florida therefore eliminating your need for excessive electives."

She nodded. "So what does that mean?"

"You..." His eyes scanned across the screen. "You get out earlier. Your friends have an extra period while you can leave after your science class."

Why did it feel like Claire was always getting the better end of the stick? First, she got Josh all to herself and now this? She was such a _gem_, wasn't she? Gritting her teeth, Alicia gripped the arms of her chair, listening as her friends complained about the classes they were being forced to take. No one wanted to fight this matter especially since he was being so nice and allowing them to go to their school after their expulsion.

It was long before there was a knock on the closed office door. "That must be your escort. You have a decent amount of time before school starts. I wish you the best of luck on your first day. It was a pleasure to meet you." Massie shook his hand and the girls filed out, walking back into the now-busy office, filling with all of the staff and secretaries.

"Hide me," Dylan moaned, ducking behind Kristen's body. "Do you see who's standing there right now? I can't be around _Plovert_. Maybe if we're really quiet we can—"

"Oh, there you are!" Lydia called loudly, catching everyone's attention. "Mister Plovert, here are the new students you're supposed to show around!"

_Mister Plovert? New students you're supposed to show around?_ Alicia felt her tongue go dry. Chris Plovert was the student council member? Chris Plovert was supposed to show them around? Chris Plovert made it very obvious he couldn't stand them and after everything he had done to Dylan, they came to the very same conclusion.

"Thank you, Lydia," he called back. "Hey, guys, I'm Chris Plovert and I'll—"

"We know who you are," Kristen snapped defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

His gaze snapped on to her face, eyes widening just a fraction of an inch. The surprise on his face disappeared as quickly as it came, hardening into one Alicia was positive she had never seen on happy go lucky Chris Plovert's features. "Well, if it isn't the _infamous_ Pretty Committee," he drawled, leaning against the wall beside him. "I knew we were getting new students, but I didn't, for the life of me, think they would be _you_."

"It's not like we're exactly thrilled to be here," Massie replied coolly. "It was the only option."

Chris made a noncommital noise in the back of his throat. "Follow me," he said blandly, "I'll show you where everything is."

"Oh, no," Massie shook her head. "We wouldn't want to get in your way."

"This is my job, Massie," he told her, cocking an eyebrow. "I'm supposed to show the newbies around and tell them about the school."

She half-smiled. "Newbies? I don't see any newbies. Do you, girls?"

"Nope," Alicia replied, a smug look forming on her face. "No one new here."

"I guess there isn't a job for you to do then," Massie pouted sympathetically.

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair and muttering something under his breath. Alicia thought she heard him say something about Derrick, but wasn't going to call him out on it. She wasn't sure. "You have never gone to school here," he said slowly. "Therefore you don't know anything. You don't know where the classrooms are or the cafeteria or the gymnasium. It's my responsibility to show you where all of that is."

"Do you get paid for this, Chris?" Alicia demanded, stepped forward and away from her friends.

He chuckled. "No. It's part of the student council rules. We all have to—"

"Then you don't _have_ to do this." She held his gaze, brown eyes meeting shocking blue. "We can figure it out ourselves."

"This is nothing but a maze the first time you're here," he continued to speak. "Believe me, I don't want to do this as much as you—"

"Then don't," Massie interrupted firmly. "We don't need your help." She stormed past him, the other girls following obediently behind her as she merged with the boys in the hall.

Alicia was the last to go, blantantly checking him out as she stood by in between the office and the hall. He looked good—a little dorky, but good—with his tanned skin and toned body. She could see his arm muscles through the shirt he wore. He should keep doing whatever he did this summer; it was working in his favor. She caught his curious gaze and threw a wink in his direction. He was the only kid she knew that could rock the dorky look. "Bye, Chris," she practically purred, the door closing loudly behind her.


	7. six

Thank you for the reviews before c: This update is faster than usual because I've been really sick and bored. I didn't go through the normal editing process I normally do, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

* * *

><p>In the center of the courtyard sat a stone fountain. As beautiful as the school building, it gave a certain <em>je ne sais quoi <em>to the surrounding area. Large, majestic trees dotted the edges of the pavilion, harboring leaves that changed into the deepest of colors. It was to Derrick Harrington the same way in which the shady oak on OCD's campus was to Massie Block. The two were considered equivalents in popularity, natural ability to lead, and attractiveness, but there was something that separated them. Derrick did not plan out his every move nor did he pick certain things because others would be envious of him. It was all a coincidence that the place he had fallen in love with in sixth grade was right smack dab in the middle of the grounds, giving everyone the perfect opportunity to see him and his friends as they interacted with each other.

Chris Plovert could see his friends milling about as they waited for the bell to ring, signaling the beginning of their first class. Kemp was lying on his back, arms supporting his head. Josh was against the side of the fountain, ever-present Yankees hat on his messy hair. Cam looked like he had just gotten there, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt to his elbows. Derrick was in the middle of saying something, Ray Bans shielding his eyes from the sun's rays.

It seemed like everyone was in Chris' way. Their images went in and out of his line of vision as he tried to push his way past the crowds of boys making their way inside. "_Excuse me_," he snapped, shoving a random kid.

"Oh, hey, Plovert, how was your—"

He gritted his teeth, blatantly ignoring this kid's seemingly innocent inquiry, and charged on. He needed to tell his friends what he just saw. They needed to know the fucking _Pretty Committee_ was going to school with them. The. Pretty. Committee. The very girls they had decided they didn't want to associate with anymore—besides Josh, but was Claire really a member of that group?—because they were everything they realized annoyed them to no end. They were superficial, rude, bitchy, cheaters… the list went on and on. Sure, they had been interested in them since the eighth grade, but there came a time when growing up was more than just an option. The boys did just that. The girls didn't.

"What I don't understand is why he does all of this to greet some new kids—"

"Looks good on resumes," Chris panted, skidding to a stop by Kemp's head. The latter yelped, sitting up quickly. "Morning."

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Derrick asked, stretching.

"New kids," Chris replied quickly. "You'll never believe who they are."

Kemp sat up quickly. "Are you trying to tell us they're some sort of threat?"

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but Derrick beat him to it: "Is my spot on the soccer team in jeopardy?"

Josh snorted. "Dude, your _dad's_ the coach. Why would your spot ever be in jeopardy?" The blonde kicked his shoulder. "You're, like, the best guy on the team anyway."

"Hey, it's not all rainbows and butterflies when your dad's the coach," Derrick explained, cracking his knuckles. "I don't get any special treatment and I get pushed twice as hard as you guys." Taking his glasses off as a cloud rolled in the blue sky, he met Chris' gaze. "But seriously, my spot's okay, right? We're not going to have to try out again, are we?"

"I highly doubt they're going to want to join a sport at all."

Kemp tutted. "Gay?"

"Just because they don't want to play a sport doesn't mean they're gay, man," Josh defended, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know I don't like it when you do that."

"Sorry," Kemp mumbled, nudging him in the shoulder when he didn't respond. "Really. I mean it."

Cam, who had been silent this entire time, finally decided to break up the little love fest on the ground. Josh and Kemp shared some sort of half-smile before the former punched him in the arm for being an asshole. "As much as I love suspense and drama," he quipped, "if I wanted some at school, I'd go to OCD. Talk, man."

"There's no need to go there," Chris started off slowly. "We'll have enough of that here."

Derrick furrowed his brows. "You're being incredibly vague."

"The Pretty Committee is officially in the building."

His friends' expressions would have been comical if it had not been under these circumstances. Kemp made a face equivalent to the one that insinuated he was going to throw up. Josh looked uncomfortable—and regarding his situation, he should be. Cam massaged his temples, wrinkling his nose. Derrick wore this pinched countenance, almost making it seem like he drank rotten milk. They were all very fitting.

"You're really funny, Plov." Kemp broke the silence, laughing awkwardly. "I had my doubts about you but that... that was funny."

"I wasn't joking. They're here. In the school. In _our_ uniforms. Walking _our_ halls. I—"

"Drop it," Derrick warned, eyes flashing. "It was funny the first time but you shouldn't keep dragging it on. Kemp's right, though. Funny joke."

"I think I would know if Alicia Rivera was winking at me or not!" Chris exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'm _not _kidding. I saw them. _I_ am part of the student council. It's my job to show new kids around. They did not want me to be there."

"Guys... I don't think he's kidding," replied Cam, scratching his forearm. "I mean, think about it. Why would he? He doesn't want to be around them as much as we do. Despite Hotz, but even he doesn't want to be around Claire when she's with his friends." He swallowed, sparing a glance at his friend. "I believe him."

Derrick shook his head. "They can't be here. Didn't they get expelled?"

"From OCD."

"Only boys go to school here."

"I don't know what the situation is, but I'm just backing him up here." Cam lifted his hands up in mock surrender, looking a bit perturbed at the third degree his blonde best friend was sending his way. "If you need more reassurance, smell him. He reeks of Alicia's perfume."

Chris wrinkled his nose, pressing it against the sleeve of his blazer. The strong aroma of spicy chocolate hit his nostrils. "Damn, she wears a lot."

"It's making me nauseous," Kemp gagged, burying his face in his shirt. "Go shower or something."

"Calm down, drama queen." Josh patted him on the head. "What does this mean?"

The bell sounded in the distance, meaning it was exactly seven thirty. Derrick hopped off the fountain, slung his bag over his shoulder, and waited as his friends did the same. With a deep sigh, he mumbled, "It means we have classes with the very girls we want nothing to do with."

No one objected to that.

* * *

><p>Art had gone off with a hitch. It was slightly awkward when five girls walked in to a class of all males, but they made do. Their teacher, a kind young woman by the name of Miss Devine, had welcomed them in the nicest way possible. She tried to make them feel at home, seating them together at a square table, and doling out all sorts of art supplies. Their first assignment was to create the sculpture in front of them on a separate piece of paper. Each group of five had a different arrangement of plates and fruit. The Pretty Committee's was a bowl of bananas and strawberries next to a glass with an apple balancing on top of it.<p>

Miss Devine had put some music on and allowed the students to talk amongst themselves. For a while, it was awkward. The boys were constantly looking over at them, eyeing them down. Kristen had felt their stares, subconsciously pulling down her skirt to make sure it covered her fully. She felt like she was on display, like they were all trying to figure out what piece of her they wanted to bite into for dinner that night. She felt like a slab of meat at the butcher's.

When it was time for the girls to separate, she felt even more overwhelmed. Everyone was shoving into her as if she were just another part of the wall, just a locker. She wouldn't be surprised if she had a few black and blues on her arms from the ferocity of their walks. If her 'classmates' in art were a hint of what was to come, she was obviously interpreting their actions the wrong way. They weren't apprehensive of her; they wanted her to know that she was not one them. She would never belong.

Rubbing her shoulder, Kristen pushed the door open to her honors trig class, slipping in before another wave of boys could squish her again. The room was empty save for a few people she didn't know and their teacher.

"You must be Kristen Gregory," the man smiled, holding out his hand.

Kristen shook it proudly. "That's me. It's very nice to meet you."

"It's an honor to have you here," he continued. "I'm Mr. Jenks. You can find a seat anywhere you'd like."

She grinned at him, turning on her heel. The room had filled a little bit more. Everyone was looking at her and suddenly, it was getting harder to breathe. Sure, she was used to attention—after all, she was part of the most popular clique in the grade—but her friends were nowhere in sight and these boys were regarding her in a way that made her uncomfortable: a mix of interest, anger in her being allowed to be there, and a dash of something that would turn into exile. They most certainly did not want her here.

Her eyes racked the rows, trying to find an empty spot she could hide in. Normally, she'd go for an open seat in the front, but in this case scenario, she wanted to blend in the background as much as possible.

"Hey," someone called. "You can sit next to me."

She bit down her lower lip, but walked in his direction despite the growing nervousness in her stomach. "Um, thank you..."

"James." He twisted his body to face her, green eyes glimmering. "James Ridder."

"I'm Krist—"

"I know who you are," he interrupted cheekily. "Everyone does. You're like the only good scorer on OCD's soccer team."

"Oh." She blushed, looking down at her notebook. "Well, thank you, but everyone is equally as good—"

He smirked at her, flipping his dark hair out of his eyes. "You realize you're not there anymore, right?" he questioned in amusement, tapping his fingers against his desk. "You can admit that you were the only good player."

"Uh," she swallowed, unable to speak harshly of her soccer sisters. Despite the fact that she was no longer part of the Sirens family, she still felt some obligation to them. She was planning on going to their home games in order to support them. She wanted to see who the JV captain was and who got that coveted Varsity position. "Do you play soccer?"

James laughed, as if the thought of the sport were the funniest thing in the world. "Oh, no. Not my thing. Lacrosse."

Kristen nodded, feeling slightly hurt by his inconsiderate behavior. "If you don't like it, how do you know I'm a good scorer?"

"The girls' team is far better than the boys'," he admitted. "At least you guys beat Greyson. I don't know how—"

"Shit talking won't get you anyway, Ridder," the familiar voice of Cam snapped.

The sporty blonde looked up, startled by the furious look on Claire's ex-boyfriend's face. His arms were crossed strongly across his chest, mismatched eyes narrowed. James merely quirked his lips. "Worried I'm actually telling Kristen here the truth about your silly team?"

"Actually," Kristen began, "I've seen them play and—"

"_My_ team?" Cam chuckled humorlessly. "I thought you were talking about yours."

"I'm surprised you'd even confuse us," James retorted. "Last time I checked, we made it pretty far in the season."

"You lost to Jameson in the most important game," Cam deadpanned. "I'm pretty sure we went off to Cornell for soccer championships. And won."

Kristen gaped, watching the boys bicker before her. Was it always this competitive here? To be honest, she hadn't known there were other good teams at Briarwood besides the most obvious. She was familiar with friendly rivalry but the way Cam and James were looking at each other gave off the illusion of something bigger, something worse. It was unfathomable; Cam was the laidback one. He rarely had a temper and if he did, he hardly showed it in public. Months of dating Claire Lyons, who was clingy and insecure, proved that. This was the first time she had ever seen the youngest Fisher look genuinely pissed.

"Favoritism," her seat partner called, rolling his eyes. "You only got there because Harrington's father pays a shitload to this school."

"That's a load of shit and you know it," Cam spat back. "Now, stop trying to corrupt Kristen. She obviously knows how well we play."

"Aw." James pouted. "Are you afraid she'll finally see the soccer team in its actual light? You _suc—_"

"Fisher, Ridder, enough gossiping," Mr. Jenks ordered, stern gaze settling on James.

So many thoughts were racking her brain, making her first day jitters even harder to manage. Did these things happen all the time? From the disgruntled look on their teacher's face: yes, they did. Out of her peripherals, she watched Cam skulk off to the back corner. Once he was settled in his seat, he dug into his pocket and pulled his phone out, fingers scuttling across the keys. He was obviously texting Derrick; there was no doubt about that. The others she wasn't so sure about.

"Welcome back to school, students," Mr. Jenks started, clasping his hands together. They all stared at him blankly. "As you know, this is an honors class therefore you will have to keep an average of a seventy-five or above or I will have to ask you to take the regents level. I'm hoping that none of you will get to that point." He turned to his desk, grabbing a stack full of papers. "Here is the syllabus, class rules, and other first day necessities. If you could just pass one back until everyone has one then we will..."

James poked her arm with his pen. "You nervous?"

She grabbed the worksheet from the boy in front of her, turning slightly to give them to the other behind her. She caught Cam's gaze as she replied with, "For what?"

"Your first day."

"Um," she cleared her throat, twisting back around. "No. I think I'll be okay."

* * *

><p>Massie twisted her hair into a messy bun, the slapping of her flats against the floor the only sounds in the empty hallway. She would never let anyone know, but she was a little bit more than slightly uncomfortable in this school. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't know who these teachers were and where the bathroom was. Did they change one for the five of them? Would they have to use the nurse's office? It was so confusing being the only girls in an all-boys school.<p>

Even more so, she was completely late to her second class of the day, something that actually made her heart beat erratically in her chest. Normally she was all for waltzing into class minutes after the bell rang. Unfortunately, she was not in OCD and did not hold the teachers' respect. These people weren't influenced by her father's generous donations or Len Rivera's position as top lawyer in the tri-state area. They were used to bowing down to Derrick Harrington and letting Cam Fisher slide when he broke the rules.

She was more than positive she'd get detention. After all, she did brush off Chris when he offered a tour.

At this rate, she might as well try to find her locker and her next class – Biology started fifteen minutes ago.

Turning on her heel, her gaze fell on the numbers adorning the lockers against the walls. She was nowhere near hers, stuck somewhere in the language wing. _This is stupid_, she thought angrily, running her hand through her hair. Of course, to make matters worse, her bracelet got caught – and now she was stuck trying to pull the charms out of her brunette ringlets.

She sincerely hoped the girls were having a terrible first day too. Maybe they could bond over it at lunch. The last she had heard from any of them, Kristen was off to math and Dylan was wishing on every lucky thing she knew of that Kemp and Plovert were in none of her classes.

Pulling out her phone to send a mass text, a deepening voice said behind her, "No phones in school, Massie Block."

She whirled around, preparing her sharp tongue to keep her from getting in trouble. Her defense dropped, however, when she noticed who it was behind her. "Hello, Josh."

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," she shot back, readjusting her books. "I just think you're annoying."

He smiled. "Okay, but you're going the wrong way."

"How do you know which way I'm going?"

"You're in my biology class," he explained. Massie had never known him to be this nice – it was always assumed the Cam was the friendliest of the bunch, but Josh seemed to really be taking the cake this time. Anyone else would have probably let her walk around aimlessly even if they were in the same course as her.

"Oh. Well," she paused. "I'm not going."

This time, his smile turned into a full out grin. "And why is that, Miss Block?" He fell into step beside her, following as she absentmindedly walked through the school.

"I'm already about twenty minutes late," she told him, "and I don't want to go through the awkward _I'm new here so I missed half of class because I don't know where I'm going _ordeal so I'll just start over tomorrow."

"Or you could just say you were in the office," he contributed, glancing at the schedule on top of her notebook. "You're going the wrong way again."

Massie rubbed her eyes, groaning when she saw the smudges of eyeliner and mascara on her skin. "This school is so _hard_ to navigate!"

"It's not really," Josh replied. "If you had allowed Chris to show you around, this would be a little easier. But –" he added quickly, noticing her glare, " – I'm not saying that to start anything with you. Here: give me your schedule."

Despite the fact that this was _Josh Hotz_, the one boy that was practically tearing apart the tightknit group she was trying to piece back together, she handed over the offending paper and let him gingerly grab her wrist, tugging her in the right direction.

"I was new here too, you know," he reminded her.

"True," she agreed, following his every move. "How was that?"

He shrugged, stopping at a locker. "I was made fun of before Derrick took an interest in me. Mind if I…" He gestured towards the lock. She shook her head. "It wasn't terrible, but you never want to be on that side of the torture. It made me realize a lot of things."

Massie frowned. "Like what?"

"Like… it's not cool to hurt peoples' feelings, you know?" He looked down at her schedule again, pulling out books that went with the rest of her day. "That's why I try to stay out of things like that."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hurt Alicia like that."

"I didn't mean to."

"But you knew she liked you. And you knew Cam liked Claire." Something inside of her snapped. Despite Josh's friendly advances, she still couldn't help but feel a ton of resentment. If it weren't for his moving to Westchester, everyone would still be friends. Alicia wouldn't want to kill Claire every chance she got. "But you still went after her."

"Mass, it isn't like that –"

"Only my _friends_ can call me that."

He swallowed. "Right. Right… uh, Massie, it wasn't like that. Honestly. I didn't – Claire seemed like she was interested…"

"That's because Nina was a major slut and told us you and Derrick and Cam didn't like us –"

"Derrick would never –"

Massie's eyes flashed. "This isn't about him," she snapped. "This is about you and Claire and Alicia."

"Listen, Massie," he began, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "Me and Cam got over our sort of fight and I'm not in the mood to start one with you. What I want is to help you out around here. If I'm being honest and I always try to be, the others aren't going to go out of their way to make sure you're comfortable... or even acknowledge you exist."

"You have _no_ idea what you have done to us, Hotz," she continued harshly, ignoring the sting his words brought her. "We all used to be really close. No matter how many fights we got into, we were still best friends. But now you're messing with everyone and there's a definite split in our relationship. This sucks _especially_ since we need each other more than ever right now. We're our only allies."

"That is between Claire, Alicia, and I, Massie. Not us," he reasoned, sighing deeply. "You shouldn't try to get in the middle of it. You can accept my help and be friends with me -"

"Shouldn't try to get in the middle of it?" she parroted, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "They were my friends before you got involved with them, Josh. _They_ ask _me_ for advice. How can I not get involved? Besides" - she snatched her books from him - "who said I wanted to be friends with _you_?"

"Massie..." She ignored him, stalking off down the hall, her head held high and her flats slapping against the floor once more. "Massie! You're going the wrong way again!"

* * *

><p>Dylan was never good at English. She always confused her tenses in her writing, never knew when to use 'was' or 'were' in a sentence, and found herself always getting low grades on the reading checks teachers loved to dole out. She knew that she wouldn't be able to get her grades up no matter where she went. She'd be lucky if she managed to keep them at the solid C minus they were at now considering there were a multitude of cute boys to look at. Briarwood Academy would, no doubt, be the death of her.<p>

Literally.

She had never felt her heart hammer more in her chest by the sight of someone's haircut. And it wasn't even in the _oh my god I think I have a crush on you_ sort of way. It was the _oh my god are you serious please can I leave or die _way. She was positive every boy in this class could hear the way her most vital organ was reacting to Kemp Hurley sauntering into the room five seconds after the late bell rang. Even worse, none of her friends were there to shoot her comforting glances or send texts that calmed her anxiety.

She ducked her head, hoping he wouldn't be able to see her behind this big football player, but then realized her attempts to hide herself were futile. Pathetic, even. She was the only girl: the only girl with flaming red hair.

His gaze, however, didn't seem to fall on her for very long. He merely glanced around the room, acting as if her presence was completely normal, and sat himself down next to some kid she had never seen before. They struck up a conversation, a brilliant smile lighting up on Kemp's face. Dylan allowed herself to fall into the forbidden; that feature - the way his face lit up when he was genuinely happy - had been the first thing to attract herself to him.

_No, Dylan_, she told herself, angered at the way her mind was going. _He's a jerk._

Tearing her gaze away, she made sure that the teacher was busy writing on the board, and pulled her phone out of her beat up Chanel tote. Selecting the Pretty Committee contact group, she carefully pressed her fingertips against the keys, unsure of what would happen if she got caught. There was no Mr. Myner here. No Mrs. Collins or Miss Dunkel. They weren't going to look in the other direction if she was caught with her phone.

**TO: PRETTY COMMITTEE  
><strong>SOS

She honestly wasn't surprised this had happened to her. Somehow, the odds were never in her favor. From getting expelled because her mother was a skank to receiving pig pictures and noises for three months, she should have seen this coming.

To this day, she could still expect a picture of the pink farm animal. They had gotten even more creative over the past few weeks and when asked if she was okay, she smiled and said, "Any attention is good attention." That was a blantant lie and it was sad that no one seemed to pick up on it. Granted, it was her sisters, who were never home, but still. Someone _had_ to see she was dying on the inside. She wasn't a pig. She wasn't. She just liked food. There was no harm in that, right?

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Was it always that loud? Swallowing, she flipped to a random page in her notebook and started to scribble the notes on the board as she flipped through the message.

**FROM: KRISTEN  
><strong>what's up? can't talk that much - science lab

**FROM: DYLAN**  
>kh is in this class!<p>

Dylan craned her neck around the guy in front of her, narrowing her eyes in order to properly see the board. Sitting this far back wasn't a good idea since she forgot her glasses, but she was in no mood to be the only girl in the front row. Embarrassing to infinity and beyond!

She couldn't see anything, though. Everything was blurring in front of her.

"Miss... Marvil?" the teacher called. Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing to turn around and look at her. "Are you all right?"

Dylan felt her cheeks heat up. Why why why? "Yes. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You seem to be fidgeting."

"Yeah," the redhead replied, "I just - it's kind of hard to see."

"Oh!" Her teacher glanced around the room before looking directly at one of the boys in the first row. "Gerard, dear, would you mind switching seats with Dylan?"

A deep voice responded with, "Yeah, it's no problem."

Dylan grimaced, shoving all of her things back into her bag, and stood abruptly, keeping her bright green eyes focused on the ground. She was aware of everyone watching her every movement and for some reason, was incredibly self-conscious. She shouldn't have told her that she couldn't see. She should have remembered to bring her glasses that morning.

Passing by the boy as she walked back, she forced a smile and threw her books on the surface of the desk. This was the worst thing to ever happen to her. She slid into her new seat, acting as if this were no big deal, but froze when she noticed who she was now beside.

Kemp Hurley was thumbing through his iPhone right under the teacher's nose, hardly paying attention to her lesson. He was less than prepared for class and every time the young woman looked over at him, she looked as if he was doing exactly what he was supposed to. No one called him out.

Dylan turning slightly, making sure that side of her face was covered by her hair, and made sure to drown herself in her notes. By the time class was over, they were clear, concise, and organized in the sort of way Kristen was known for. Even though she was allowed to leave, her hands were still shaking slightly. Who knew a boy could make her act like this? She felt like such a loser.

Kemp stood, stretching his entire body, and slipped his phone in his back pocket. He grinned at her - the first sign of acknowledgement all period - and waltzed out of class. She was confused for a second, unable to figure out why he would do such a thing, when her phone vibrated in her bag.

His name flashed across the screen. Disgusted, she deleted it immediately, unable to bring herself to view it. If this was how he was going to act all year, this seat was going to be absolutely _wonderful_.


	8. seven

I don't think I know how to write anymore s;fljdfjkdshfdlfkjd I'm trying with new chapters and they all seem so forced and it's driving me crazy! Thanks for putting up with me, though.

* * *

><p>The smell of boy was disgusting.<p>

Alicia pushed her way through the crowded halls, yearning for the familiar scents of the combined perfumes the girls wore at OCD. The lingering sweat plus expensive cologne was not making this day any less stressful. She had managed to make it to all of her classes on time, but found herself uncomfortable at the stares and silence that seemed to follow her wherever she went. She thought the boys would enjoy seeing someone pretty and nice all the time, but it was as if they wanted her to go away. It was as if they were made she was infiltrating.

To put an even bigger damper on her day, she managed to see Josh wherever she turned. His locker is down the hall from hers. He was always going into the classroom next door to the one she was entering. If she hadn't had such a major crush on him, this wouldn't have been a problem. She did, though, and she was stuck, trying to avoid him, as he dated the one girl she couldn't stand.

Claire Lyons wasn't the innocent girl everyone made her out to be. _She_ was the reason Alicia was in this school. _She_ was the reason everything sucked. It was such a shame Massie took a liking to her. There was nothing special about her that made her Massie Block worthy; it was probably only her down-to-earth, Floridian roots that managed to charm someone as ruthless as Massie. Alicia knew there was something up with her all along, something she was hiding. Eventually all secrets are revealed, of course, and Claire showed her true colors: she was really a vindictive bitch.

Alicia hoped with all her heart that Claire and Josh were really, really, _really_ happy together. They were probably the only two people in the entire district that wanted to be near each other.

She followed the boys as they congregated as one to the cafeteria, praying that one of her friends was already there, waiting for her. She had nightmares about being _that new girl_, the one with the lunch in her hands, combing the unfamiliar area in order to find friends or an empty table to sit at. She didn't want to become one of them. Besides, she was hoping everyone else's day was as bad as hers - she didn't want to be the only one dreading school the next day.

Briarwood's cafeteria was nothing like OCD's. The tables were placed normally around the room. There was no sushi bar or Starbucks kiosk. There were normal vending machines and a doorway that led to the kitchen. There would be no table eighteen with Massie's purple nail polish painted in the corner. It was stereotypical. It was not what Alicia was used to.

Where would she sit anyway? It seemed like there were no tables left, that all the boys already had their own spots in this place. If they were lucky, they'd be able to latch on to someone's group and sit with them. But as of three months ago, the Pretty Committee did not have any friends who were boys. And Alicia wanted nothing to do with Josh.

"Leesh! Thank God!"

She whirled around to see the disgruntled form of Kristen as she stopped her mad rush to stand at her side. "Hey," she said steadily, fighting the idiotic grin that no doubt would settle on her face at the sight of her friend. "What's up?"

"I only had four classes and I'm already stacked with homework," the blonde replied, groaning, her arms filled with heavy textbooks. "I've got to do thirty problems in trig and read a whole chapter in AP Euro and -"

"That sucks," Alicia interrupted. "Do you know where we're supposed to sit?"

Kristen looked miffed, but answered regardless. "No. Massie should be here soon and then we can get lunch."

"Ew." Alicia wrinkled her nose. "Eat? Here? There are _boys _here."

"So?"

"I can't eat where there are boys around!"

"So what are you going to do? Starve yourself?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, Alicia stumbled slightly when two boys roughly pushed around her. "No. I'll eat when I get home. I hardly ate lunch at OCD anyways. You saw what happened to Dylan!"

"What happened to me?" The redhead appeared, taking a gulp of her water bottle.

Kristen blinked, stammering, "Well, um, you see... we were - uh -"

"You got sent pig pictures because you ate," Alicia said flatly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "That's why I'm not eating here."

"Oh." Dylan swallowed, dropping her gaze towards her bag, where her phone sat, hidden in one of the pockets. "Right. That happened."

"It's a life lesson." Alicia shrugged. "Do you know where Mass is? I don't know where to sit and I have to vent."

The two shook their heads before absorbing themselves in other activities. Kristen flipped through her agenda, moaning to herself about the crazy workload she had; Dylan stared blankly at the far wall until she finished off her drink. Alicia sighed, glancing at the clock. Where was Massie? She wanted to complain about the awkward classes and the lack of girls and the placement of the bathroom. Where even was the bathroom? Was there one? Did they have to... _share_? Ew. Alicia was not going into a place where urinals were used. Gross.

It wasn't long before the familiar glossy hair entered the room. Those amber eyes surveyed the chaos, sparkling in recognition when they fell upon the other three Pretty Committee members. Massie moved through the crowds gracefully, turning her head slightly behind her, taking her left hand and gripping someone else's wrist. Alicia made a face, noticing the light hair of Claire, and turned back towards Kristen and Dylan. When would the little slut be kicked out? She was stupid enough to go against almost _everyone. _Alicia had her fair share of isolation when she chose to turn her back on her friends in pursuit of her own ruling so why hadn't Claire been forced to learn the same lesson she had? It was obvious Massie was playing favorites again; it sucked to be the one on the other side of that affection.

"...just drop the class?" Dylan was suggesting, rummaging through her bag.

Kristen's eyes widened. "I can't just _drop_ the class, Dylan!" she replied rather loudly. "I know you guys have the option of taking certain classes but I _have _to take honors and APs. It's part of the scholarship I was granted. It's not every day someone is allowed to go to a highly prestigious - and may I mention, _expensive_ - school without paying a single cent! I have to take loads of hard classes and maintain a three-point-oh in order to keep that!"

The redhead rose her hand in surrender, stepping back slightly. "How was I supposed to know that? Chill."

"_Chill_? You don't understand the pressures I'm under! You never will because you can afford -"

"Hey, guys," Claire greeted, smiling brightly. She carried a few books in her arms, black Sharpie written across them.

Alicia ignored her. How could someone be _that_ perky on the first day of school?

Dylan muttered a 'hello' and returned to the task of searching for her wallet in the cluttered mess of her bag.

"I have a Luna bar," Massie announced. "I'm not too hungry either, probably because of this new school and everything. Want to find a seat?"

The girls followed her dutifully. Alicia allowed her to lead, taking in the cafeteria around her. It was almost just like OCD: certain groups sat together, laughing and joking, ignored by the 'popular boys,' whoever they were. The football kids were easy to pinpoint, their helmets placed upon the surface of their table. She spotted the soccer team at another, but casually glanced past them, hardly in the mood to see Josh. She already had enough interactions with them to last the entire year. The nerdy kids had their textbooks in front of them, scribbling answers to homework that was due the next day. The fact that they were using their break from learning to do work was insane. Alicia wrinkled her nose.

Before she could continue to figure out what kind of people these boys were, the group stopped walking at an empty table, dropping their things around the empty chairs. Massie took her spot in the middle with Kristen on one side and Claire on the other. Alicia made sure to get the seat next to the sporty blonde rather than the crush-stealer, and grabbed a water bottle out of her bag. She was not going to eat.

From the looks of it, neither was Dylan. The redhead looked cautiously over her shoulder as if debating it, but thought better of the idea, and remained seated. Instead, she scrolled through the newsfeed of Facebook, filling the others in on the girls back at OCD.

Massie ripped off pieces of her bar, popping them in her mouth at random intervals. Kristen and Claire had gone up together - because alone was awkward - to investigate the kitchen situation.

"I had a very interesting conversation with Josh earlier," the leader commented once the two were gone.

Alicia quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah? About?"

"He wants to be friends."

"And you said?"

Massie smirkled lightly. "I told him I would never _want _to be friends to him after what he's done to our group. Claire's the only one who wants him around."

"And she can have him," Alicia responded, her eyes betraying her to find the boy in question. He was across the room, laughing at something Kemp had said, with his mouth full of food. _Ew_. While other boys were blantantly staring at the Pretty Committee, those five were doing a really good job of ignoring their existence. She shook her head, turning back to the conversation at hand. "I've come to realize that it was stupid of me to bother with someone who obviously has poor standards when it comes to girls. I'll find someone else. Someone older, maybe."

"He made this comment about Derrick, though," Massie went on, nodding her approval at Alicia's statement. "He was talking about how Claire seemed like she was interested and I responded with the whole situation with Nina and how we thought they didn't like us anymore. He was all _Derrick would never_ but I never let him finish his sentence."

"Are you curious?" Dylan asked. "Oh my god, Olivia Ryan got _another_ nose job."

Massie laughed out loud. "You're kidding me, right? Wasn't four enough?"

"Apparently not. I wonder what she has against her nose."

Alicia was about to blurt out the one secret of Olivia's she had never spoken to anyone about - how the airhead blonde was super self-conscious of her nose because her father had once told her it was too big for her face - but thought better of it. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, something that told her it was not best to release that type of information to her friends. It was a rather personal family matter. She knew when to keep her mouth shut, even if she sometimes acted otherwise. She was taught three things by her father when she was younger: never speak of religion, politics, and family problems in public whether they be your own or someone else's. Olivia obviously had trusted her enough to speak of this with her. Despite the fact that they were no longer friends, she could not break someone's trust like that.

"Don't care, really," Massie waved it off. "Regarding the Derrick thing, no. I can't be bothered with things like that. Derrick and I are over. Whatever he would _never_" - she exaggerated the emphasis - "do is in the past."

The Latina always admired the way Massie handled herself. If the break up with Derrick still bothered her, no one could tell. She was ready to take this school by storm no matter the circumstances.

Dylan nodded. "He was a jerk for doing that anyway. You'll find someone better."

Massie shrugged. "I'm not really focused on boys right now, Dyl. I made that clear in the car. You guys can do whatever you please, but I'm going to ensure our standing in this school. Make sure we make a mark and such. I miss our privileges."

"I know, right?" Alicia agreed. "I wasn't allowed to go to the bathroom during math because we were doing 'practice questions' or something. It was vitally important." She rolled her eyes. When has math on the first day of school been _vitally important_?

Kristen, who had returned from getting a cup full of fruit salad, picked up one the topic. "I was petrified of answering your text, Dyl. I thought my teacher would be able to figure me out by the way my hands were underneath the desk."

"Yeah." Claire bobbed her head in agreement. "I'm sorry I couldn't answer. How did everything go with Kemp?"

"Terribly," she moaned, stopping in her endless scroll of the Facebook newsfeed. "First, he ignored me - and I was thrilled about that, believe me - but then I made the mistake of forgetting my glasses at home and it all went downhill from there."

"How so?" Alicia questioned, looking over her shoulder before stealing a green grape from Kristen's container. She chewed it slowly, hoping none of the boys surrounding them noticed she had eaten a piece of food. She didn't want to be judged on the first day of school like that.

Dylan licked her lips, removing the last of her sparkly lip gloss. Alicia made a mental note to remind her to fix that up before lunch was over. "The teacher noticed I was having a hard time and made me switch seats with some kid named Gerard -"

"Gerard Phillips?"

"Ooh, he's cute," Alicia mused.

"No clue who he is. Might be him. Might not," Dylan replied, shrugging her shoulders. "He was cool with it and now I'm sitting in the front. Next to Kemp. Of course this would only happen to me and he gets all this special treatment. Like, he didn't even have a book with him. He wrote _nothing_ down, spending all his time on his phone. When class ended, he sort of smiled at me and left, the first time he ever acknowledged my presence. Next thing I know, my phone's vibrating with his name flashing across the screen."

Claire held her hand over her mouth. "What did it say?"

"Don't know. I deleted it. Wasn't in the mood for another pig-related message."

"Good for you." Kristen nodded. "Maybe if you ignore them, they'll stop."

Dylan bit her lower lip. "Probably." She didn't look too sure.

"Anything else exciting happen this morning?" asked Massie, glancing over at Claire and Kristen, the only two who had not discussed their classes with them. Alicia didn't want to speak anymore considering her concerns only consisted of Josh being everywhere - and she didn't want to speak about that around _Claire_ - and the weird smell of boy.

Claire hummed lightly, ripping the crust off of her bread. "None that I can speak of. I haven't seen the soccer boys yet."

"Lucky," Dylan muttered under her breath.

"Cam's in my math class," Kristen commented. Alicia noticed how Claire suddenly perked up, her attention directly on the blonde across the table from her. _Interesting_. "Not much to report on except that the soccer and lacrosse teams have quite the rivalry. They fought about it before we started."

"_Fought_?" Claire echoed. "Like, physically?"

Kristen snorted. "Of course not. They used their words." She said this slowly as if Claire was a five year old who didn't understand the concept of no cookies before dinner. Alicia couldn't help the sly smile that formed on her lips.

"Oh."

* * *

><p>After lunch, Claire found herself in the library during her social studies class, searching the expansive room for books on the French revolution. Her teacher had a certain method to teaching, one that involved the students researching the topic they were about to discuss before blindly diving into it. She split the room into three sections. The first was to find information on the state of France before the revolution began, the second was to search for the actual revolution itself, and the third was to find the effects it had in the long run.<p>

She was, unfortunately, looking for the causes, even though the actual subject was the most fascinating what with the beheading and such.

Grasping three books the school librarian had seized for her, she placed them down on a table, intent on reading at least a good portion of one before the period ended. Before she could even settle down, however, a voice spoke quickly on her right.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Um, no," she replied distantly, not even bothering to look up. She vaguely realized it sounded familiar, but was too busy trying to skim through this novel-length book.

"I always thought Kristen was the smart one," the person said again, this time from across the table.

She frowned. "It's very rude to assume that only one of us can be smart - Plovert." His name sounded awkward on her tongue. Had she ever used it before? Had she ever actually had a conversation with him and only him? She couldn't recall.

Chris Plovert grinned cheekily at her. In front of him was a pile of different books, something that reminded her very much of Kristen. They were practically twins, she decided, with the whole academics thing. He actually made the nerd look kind of hot. "Nice to see you, too, Claire," he replied as if she just hadn't told him off. "And I wasn't assuming anything. I just wanted to start a conversation."

"Really?" she asked skeptically. She didn't know if she could trust any of these boys around here. Even her brother was proving to be really odd.

"Yep." He nodded. "Just wanted to know how your first day was going. In a new school and all."

"Did Josh put you up to this?"

"No," he answered automatically. Claire raised an eyebrow, closing the book in front of her. "Okay. Fine. He did. He was worried about you, that's all."

She shook her head slowly. "Figures. But... I'm fine. I'm used to new schools. I can figure out things. It's the other girls who are the most confused."

Chris tapped his pen on the table. "I'm only here to find out about you, Claire. I could care less about Massie and them."

"That's not nice," she reprimanded. "They're new here too."

"And they're complete bitches."

"_Chris_!" she snapped. "Those bitches you happen to be referring to are my _friends_ and I do not appreciate the tone you are using to describe them."

He only smiled. "You're literally the nicest one out of all of them, aren't you?"

"I suppose," she muttered, flipping to a random page. She wasn't liking where this was going.

"It's funny," he began, writing his name on the top of his worksheet, "that _you're _ the nicest one and you did all of that stuff to Cam."

"I thought he was over that."

"Over it? Claire, you broke the kid's heart. You actually cheated on him. And when he dumped you, you didn't come running back. Instead, you went out with Josh." He sighed. "It's the fucking bro code not to go after someone else's girl. Especially if they're already dating them. Seems like no one knows how to follow that these days."

Claire's eyes flashed angrily. "Did you come here to throw my mistakes in my face? I'm entirely aware of what I did. I apologized to everyone. I moved on. Don't start uncovering buried things."

"Just saying," Chris said, typing something into his calculator. "It's just weird that all of the shit you pulled makes you the _nicest one_."

"I honestly don't know what is wrong with you guys," she spat angrily, piling all of her books together. "I don't understand why you're all acting so immature. Just drop it and be civil!"

"Civil?" he parroted. "To the girls who ruined our lives? I don't think so."

"Ruined your lives?" Claire scoffed. "Okay, Plovert. I know a thing or two about girls ruining lives. If I can recall correctly, I spent a good chunk of last year being tortured. I can tell you one thing: we didn't do anything remotely 'life ruining'."

Chris shook his head sadly, almost as if he was upset she was speaking that way. "Something must have changed in you, Claire, after they accepted you. Did you forget what it was like to be tormented? What it felt like to think everything was falling apart?" He paused as if he was waiting for her to answer, but she kept her mouth shut. His patronizing tone of voice was starting to get on her nerves. "Obviously not if you think that you five were angels to us. Massie toyed with Derrick, pulled him in only to push him away again for some kid with highlights in his hair -"

"Layne's brother," Claire supplied haughtily.

" - and Alicia confused the shit out of everyone, jumping from boy to boy. If someone thought she liked them, she changed her mind in an instant. We _fought_ over her, dude. Dylan - I'd actually rather not talk about her, I'm still slightly disgusted to be honest. Kristen turns us away because she spouts all of these facts about random crap like we'd be so amazed. And _then_ if we didn't know what she was talking about, she acted as if we were the stupidest people on the face of the planet. That leaves you, Claire, the one who managed to get past Cam's carefully crafted walls just to make him force them back up again. Bravo. Bravo."

"I don't know what your definition of _life-ruining_ is, Plovert, but ours are most certainly different."

"You wouldn't understand," he snapped defensively. "You were the ones pulling the strings. Not me."

She stood abruptly, done with discussing things with him - if it even _was_ a discussion in the first place - and searched the room for an empty place to sit. "To think I was planning on apologizing for the way we treated you earlier this morning," she chuckled humorlessly, hugging her research books to her chest. "You deserved it. And you deserve whatever is coming your way. Don't talk to me anymore. Okay?"

She felt Chris watch her leave, heard him call, "Wasn't planning on it!" but refused to turn around.


	9. eight

and the ball is officially rollinggggg!

sorry this took so long - i had spring break and was basically not in the mood to do anything (besides cry over the fact that harry styles will never love me)

here you go, though!

* * *

><p>"How was the first day, honey?" Marsha inquired, again in her stained apron with her graying bob tied into a small ponytail at the nape of her neck.<p>

Pouring over her various advanced placement textbooks, Kristen replied, her mind swimming as it had many months ago - how ironic. "Different, but good." She was still a little shaky about the experience, unable to fathom the fact that she was surrounded by boys, quickly outnumbering the five girls scrambling through their halls. This was what she wanted, though, right? She wanted to go to Briarwood, not Abner Double Day. Being a minority was something she would have to deal with. "My classes seem challenging but I'm excited to see how these teachers deal with the coursework."

She lifted her pencil again, factoring the fourth problem in her math homework. She bit her lip hard, unable to figure out what method to use, and eventually scribbled out the answer when it hit her moments later. Doing all of this right was her main priority right now, no matter how many times her phone lit up with new text messages. Her friends could wait. Her scholarship was depending on her ability to retain information.

"That's great," her mother replied distantly, rummaging through something in the kitchen. Shortly after, a letter appeared on her book. "This came in the mail for you."

It was unopened, decorated with OCD's seal. She paused in her work, ripping the envelope open. She had no idea why her heart was beating so fast. Was it terrible of her to think that this may tell her she was allowed back? Did her essay work? She put so much effort into it despite the fact that they told her it was futile to even bother trying.

Her eyes skimmed the beginning paragraph quickly, her heart sinking.

_Dear Miss Gregory,_

_The original copy of this note seemed to have gotten lost in the mail earlier in the summer months, so I am terribly sorry for the delay. Upon realizing that you were expelled indefinitely from this school, this has been issued as a reminder. Because you are no longer part of the Octavian Country Day School family and you have been forced out of this fine establishment, it is with my utmost displeasure that I am to tell you that the extra curriculars and clubs you contributed to are not able to travel with you to Briarwood Academy. It upsets me deeply that these accomplishments (class president, captain of the JV soccer team, upcoming editor of the yearbook and newspaper, etc etc) could not follow you to your new school, but it is a policy upheld here at Octavian Country Day. If you had left on better terms, they would have been able to remain on your transcript but, alas, you have not and must being anew - _

Kristen shook her head roughly, green-blue orbs threatening to overflow with tears. Everything she had done, all the hard work she forced herself to do, everything she planned to get herself into a good college... it was all done. To think of all the opportunities being class president of her grade for four years could have brought her! Everything... it was all ruined. Ruined.

She had beaten herself up before due to her rash decision to attend the field trip, but now, more than ever, she wished she could go back in time to alert her past self of the things she would be losing. Lake Placid wasn't even worth it in the end; she had slept on the floor, eating quarters of portions of Massie's meals in order to curb her hunger. She wasn't able to explore the way she wanted to, spend time with her friends the way she had envisioned.

"What is it?" Marsha questioned, popping her head back into the dining room. "I was a little curious since it was from OCD, but it had your name on it so I respected your privacy... Kristen?"

"I... they said... I need to start over."

"Well, of course, dear. You _are _at a new school."

"No," Kristen replied harshly. "My clubs. My... everything I've ever done, everything I've ever worked for... they took it away. I didn't even know that was possible! All the things I had done at OCD are erased as if I had never been there at all!"

Marsha's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not quite following."

Kristen stood, thrusting the letter into her mother's face. "Read it. This is incredibly unfair."

She stood patiently, arms crossed in anger. Her fingers were digging into the skin of her upper body, pinching in a way that would be uncomfortable if she had not been this infuriated. Her campaign for the presidency in sixth grade had been a difficult one considering she was up against Allie-Rose Singer, another popular girl in their grade. She had been honored when they named her captain of the soccer team, ecstatic when they saw her potential in the newspaper... All of it was gone, like dust in the wind. Others would be recognized for these accomplishments. It was as if they were trying to hide the fact that she deliberately disobeyed the rules.

"I'm sure they have a very good reason for this, sweetie," her mother shocked her in saying, handing it back.

Kristen crumpled it slightly in her hold. "Are you serious?" Her eyes narrowed, tinted red. "How could you say that? I worked _hard_, Mom! For days on end, I tried to make something of myself, something colleges would be interested in seeing and you... you're agreeing with them?"

"You committed an injustice to the school," Marsha pointed out. "They have every right to take away your credits."

"You're not going to fight it?"

"You're no longer part of that community, Kristen, dear." The fridge opened and closed, a jug of milk placed on the counter. "There's no point in starting a fight if you do not attend the school. You'll just have to start over again, like you said."

Her jaw dropped, color flooding her face. "I-I _can't_," she stammered. "Do you know where I am? At a _boys _school! I-this is very - they don't take me seriously, Mom. They want me _out_. I'm - there's no way they'll ever let me into their clubs! Sports are absolutely out of the question... I'm sure there's a rule that I can't join regarding the fact that I'm a girl and they're all obviously not..."

"There was no rule saying you couldn't earn your education there -"

"That's different!" she exasperated, feeling the insane urge to pull her hair out. "There have got to be precautions and safety concerns... I can't do any of the things I did back at OCD! I can't just insert myself into the lifestyle of these boys, Mom! Do you not understand that? They don't want me there."

Marsha shrugged indifferently. "They'll just have to deal with it, won't they?" She cracked an egg, added a cup of milk in a bowl, using a spoon to mix whatever was in the metal bowl. "Try tutoring. You're a very smart girl. Surely they'll need someone to help those with less brains than you."

"Mom -"

"Promise me you'll check the main office tomorrow after school," her mother continued. "Do I have to call the secretaries to make sure you have done what I wish?"

Kristen balled her hands into fists, fighting the urge to shout at her mother. This was absolutely ridiculous. Why couldn't she just call up the school board and see if they could drop her of all charges? Her parents used to be one of the major contributors to OCD before her father's job went under. They had to have some sort of power over there still...

She swallowed her response, however, when her mother turned to look at her, gaze steely. "Do I?" she demanded, voice hard.

"No," her daughter replied submissively, giving in like usual. "I'll do it tomorrow."

Marsha nodded once, sending her daughter a small smile. Kristen understood why she did it, but for once, she wished that it was never about her education and their lack of money. Did they ever realize that they were raising a teenage girl and not just a smart robot? Kristen had feelings, too, and they were easy to hurt.

* * *

><p>Figuring out ways to spruce up these uniforms was already proving difficult and it was only the second day of classes.<p>

Kristen found herself standing in front of her mirror for the third time that morning, debating which tie she should wear - there were three - and if she should wear the socks or stick to the bare legs she had been sporting yesterday. There wasn't much she could do and she had already worn the sweater vest version of this outfit the day before. Sighing, she slipped her arms into the blazer, pulled her hair out from underneath it, and forced a smile.

She could already tell today was not going to be a good one. She had been up until one in the morning trying to finish up all the homework her teachers had thrown at her. She wished she were more like her friends, without the burdens of a scholarship and the Ivy League dreams her parents had for her. Gaze straying from her made up face, she caught a glimpse of the torn piece of notebook paper pinned to the bulletin board above her bed. It had been placed there months ago, a list of her parents' suggestions of colleges she look into. Number one she knew was a stretch: there was no way she could get into Harvard even if she isolated herself and became a hermit, doing nothing day and night but studying profusely. It was worth a shot, she guessed, but as the list progressed, the weight on her shoulders increased. Yale, Cornell, Dartmouth, Princeton, Columbia, Brown, Penn...

There were no SUNYs and they didn't consider NYU that huge of an accomplishment no matter how many times she tried to suggest it to them. It wasn't that she was set on going there - she was only a sophomore - but she wanted to be given a little bit more room to breathe. They only accepted a few other colleges - ones also difficult to get into - but only as her reach options, her back-up plans.

Shaking her head, she pushed all thoughts of college and applications and scholarships out of her mind, the crushing feeling on her chest lightening until it was gone altogether. The prospect of life after high school was terrifying to her, especially with her parents and their expectations. She was only fifteen for crying out loud; she still had a year or so to go before all of this was a reality. Couldn't they let her live her life the way a teenager should before having to conform for a school to want her? The paper thumbtacked to her wall was only increasing her stress and anxiety.

The quick ring of her phone informed her of Massie's arrival. With one last flip of her hair, she grabbed her backpack, slung it on her shoulder, and flounced out of the room. Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a buttered bagel. After wishing her luck, she kissed his cheek and padded out of the apartment, raced down the stairs, and into the Block family Range Rover.

Dylan, Alicia, Claire, and Todd were already there.

The gossiping Latina was in the middle of a story when Kristen slid into her usual seat. Massie flashed her a quick smile and the car was off.

" - god, he's _insufferable_, Mass. I don't know how you managed to date him for almost a year."

"The summer must've changed him," Dylan remarked casually. "He used to be really sweet from what I can remember."

Massie shrugged indifferently. "This new attitude doesn't bother me. Why should it? We're no longer together. He can do whatever it is he wants. If being a cocky asshole is his latest fad, go for it. As long as he leaves me alone."

Kristen frowned. "What?" She hated being the last one picked up.

"Oh!" Alicia squeaked, smiling apologetically. "I was just telling these guys about my woodshop class. _Derrick's_ in there." She made a face. "And unlike the others, he went out of his way to speak to me. It was absolutely ridiculous the way he was treating me - acting like he was so much better than me and above me... We got into a sort of spat, you would say, until the teacher, a nice old man, told him that was no way to treat a lady." She smiled as if she had won a large battle.

"Ew," Kristen wrinkled her nose. It disgusted her slightly that she had found Derrick Harrington attractive after the way he just dropped Massie as if she were a suitcase at the baggage claim. He hardly regarded her feelings. To think she wanted to date that once in her life! "Seems like they all changed - for the worse, of course."

"Josh hasn't," Claire piped in.

Kristen rolled her eyes at the comment, catching Alicia's disturbed look. Sure, she was friendly with Claire and treated her as if she were any other member of the Pretty Committee, but she hardly opened her mouth anymore unless it was to talk about her boyfriend. Kristen wasn't one to make assumptions but it seemed as if Claire was only doing so to get a reaction out of Alicia, who was smarter than to fall for the trap.

It was silly what boys could do to friends.

"How was that load of homework?" Dylan asked, brushing powder across her face.

"It was fine," Kristen responded, "took a while but I managed to get to bed before two."

"I was asleep at ten thirty!" Alicia exclaimed. "I can't believe you had _that _much homework on the first day of school!"

The smart blonde sighed tiredly. "That's what happens when your schedule consists of all honors and APs. Be lucky you guys don't have to deal with that." Glancing out the window, she felt a surge of jealousy course through her. She would have killed to be asleep at the time Alicia had mentioned - or even earlier. She had been falling asleep on her work once the clock struck nine fifteen, the effect the school day had on her body. She was still exhausted and it was only the second day! If this was how she was going to be acting this early on, she could only imagine what the rest of the year would bring.

Once at the school, the girls split up to go to their lockers, and Kristen told them to tell their art teacher she might be a bit late as she was going to the office. The four members of the Pretty Committee wore confused expressions on their faces but nodded anyway, confident she would elaborate when she got to class.

She wanted to get this tutoring thing over with before she forgot. With her books for the morning held against her chest with one arm, she navigated herself through the halls, thanking the boy that held the office door open for her. The room was bustling with activity, others in there to see the principal in regards to schedule changes. She thought she saw a flash of Chris Plovert with the assistant principal, but didn't bother to investigate. Instead, she strolled up to Lydia's desk, smiling sweetly when the woman looked up as her shadow fell across her desk.

"Kristen," she greeted warmly. "It's very nice to see you. How was your first day?"

"A lot of work," the younger girl admitted truthfully. "I'll manage though. I was just wondering if it was possible to sign up as a tutor or something along those lines."

Lydia nodded quickly. "Of course, of course. Someone with your GPA is a must for the tutoring society!" She flipped through the documents in a huge three-ring binder, pulling out a hefty packet. "All you have to do is fill this out and get it to the multi-media room. It is used as the meeting place for the tutors and their students, seeing as it has all the computers and the library is right next door. Do you need help finding it?"

"No, thanks, I've been there," the blonde answered, slipping the booklet in her Spanish binder. "Thank you very much, Lydia. I'd stay and chat, but I have to get to my first class before the bell rings."

"Understandable." Lydia scribbled something down on a pink slip, checking the time on her computer screen. "Here. Just in case."

Kristen smiled again, pocketing the pass before turning on her heel and merging with the rest of her new schoolmates.

* * *

><p>She decided to skip out on lunch that day in order to submit her application to be a tutor. After what felt like forever answering questions about her grades, classes, and prior commitments, Kristen signed her name on the dotted line at the bottom of the last page. With a great sigh, she lifted herself out of her seat in the library and entered the multi-media room, exactly where Lydia said it would be.<p>

It was pretty high-tech if she had to say so herself. The walls were lined with the latest Mac desktop. Printers were found in a corner, along with fax, copy machines, and scanners. Carts held laptops, used if all desktops were taken, and a circular desk was placed in the middle of the room, where the equivalent of the librarian sat. Kristen assumed that was where she ought to go to hand this in.

"Hello?"

The woman looked up, her kind face peering out from underneath her glasses. "This is a surprise," she commented. "Never thought I'd see a girl in a Briarwood uniform before."

Kristen grinned awkwardly. "There's always time for change," she replied, unsure of what else to say.

"That's true," the woman agreed, nodding her head. "What is it that I can do for you?"

"I... um, filled this out. Lydia - in the office - gave it to me." She slid the packet across the desk.

The woman flicked through it, whistling slightly at Kristen's history of advanced classes, started when she was in the sixth grade and she was allowed to take a higher math. "Expressing a desire to teach other students, Miss Gregory?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"The name's Mrs. Kingston," she introduced, scanning the pages filled with Kristen's neat writing. "You have a very impressive resume here, Kristen. OCD Honor Roll since fifth grade? Highest grade on a standardized test in eighth? Remarkable. You're quite the student."

Kristen fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable. She never liked it when people praised her on her academic record. She was just like every other student. She just had a knack for studying. She knew what to do and, because of that, managed to keep a GPA close to four point oh for about two years. Adults always looked at her differently when they found out her talents were in sports _and_ learning. Some were even intimidated.

"What subjects do you particularly excel at, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Science and math," she answered automatically. "That doesn't mean I'm not good at social studies and English, but I just seem to get those better and it's easier to explain theories and formulas than actual events."

Mrs. Kingston bobbed her head slowly, producing a stamp from her desk. Kristen was transported back to Principal Burns' office, where her fate had changed drastically due to a red stamp, but relief flooded her when the word 'APPROVED' appeared on her form.

Stashing it away, the woman looked up at Kristen directly this time. "We've been in need of tutors for science and math for a while now," she explained. "What subjects are you in now?"

"Trigonometry and chemistry, but I do have prior knowledge of geometry, algebra one, biology, and earth science," she explained. "And I've kept my notes from those classes."

"I like you already, Kristen," Mrs. Kingston smiled, pressing 'print' on a document on her computer screen. "I've compiled a list of people that need help. How many students do you think you can take on?"

She shrugged. "Three, maybe?"

"Good, good." Producing a pen and a Post-it note, the multi-media teacher wrote names down on it before folding it, confidentially handing it over to Kristen. "Please don't speak of these people outside of this room for it may be embarrassing to them that they are already on the tutoring list this early in the year. This is only due to the results of their Regents tests and finals last year. Contact them as soon as you can, Kristen. Thank you."

The blonde nodded in confirmation and turned on her heel. Once she was away from the woman, she unfolded the note, eyes practically bulging out of her head when she read the straight penmanship.

Devon Smith, Todd Lyons, and _Derrick Harrington_.


	10. nine

you guys make me giggle. thank you for the reviews, but so you don't have a mini-meltdown—this is not a krissington story! there's a reason i put them together but it's not romantic at all. you'll see ;)

this is a bit of a filler and i know it's short, but you are all so awesome for keeping up with me!

* * *

><p>"Alicia Rivera, right?"<p>

"Depends on who's asking," the girl responded immediately, looking up with an easy-going smile. Upon viewing the boy talking to her, she immediately wished she were near a reflective surface—the computer was not working out in her favor, no matter how many different angles she had tried to look at herself before. There was an incredibly attractive, _older _boy standing above her. Her lips felt uncomfortably chapped; her hair was probably all sorts of messy...and _not_ in a good way.

"I hope I meet the criteria then," he replied back easily. "Anyone sitting here?" He gestured to the empty seat beside her.

"No," she said quickly, kicking Dylan's tote further under the desk. So what if her redhaired friend was there before? She had logged off before going to the bathroom, having finished her assignment for the day. She would understand the situation when she saw exactly who was seated by Alicia's right. "It's free."

The boy smiled. "Great."

Heart fluttering slightly, Alicia tried to focus on the work at hand. She was halfway done with her social studies assignment, but how could she focus on this _now_? Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she snuck a glance at her companion. Even his profile was absolutely gorgeous. With his a full head of messy black hair and undeniably blue eyes, she was positive he was number one on Briarwood's Hottest Guy List. He seemed familiar, too, but Alicia couldn't quite place her finger on his name...

"I think it's only fair that you tell me your name since you know mine," she ventured, nibbling on her lip.

"Everyone knows who you are, Alicia Rivera," he responded, fingers flying across the keys.

"That may be so, but I don't know who _you _are and that's all that matters." She winced slightly; her flirting techniques seemed juvenile and childish in his presence but he didn't seem to take notice. In fact, he seemed to almost enjoy it.

"Danny Robbins," he introduced. "I'm surprised you don't remember me."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You probably weren't that important, Danny."

"Ouch." He held his hand over his heart. "You wound me."

"Maybe if you jogged my memory, I could tell you why."

Danny twisted in his seat, blue eyes sparkling. "December or so. Tomahawks soccer game. You were with your friend, Olivia."

A wave of remembrance crashed over Alicia and she saw herself, back when everything was comfortable and familiar, sitting on Briarwood's hard, cold bleachers in the middle of a rather frosty soccer match. Derrick Harrington was pulling his pants down after he saved a goal, wiggling his butt in happiness. Olivia giggled at his antics; her friend had liked the jerk back then, she remembered. Kemp Hurley scored the winning point. Chris Plovert and Danny Robbins came up to the pair, Chris explaining that Danny was his cousin... His eyes were so blue, so pretty—

"I remember now," she informed him. "You got your braces taken off, I see."

He flashed a grin, teeth straight and perfect. "A few months ago, yes. Biggest relief of my life."

"They look good," she agreed. "How is the soccer team?"

"Coach Harrington's got us whipped into shape," he answered smoothly, opening up his email. "We've been training since July."

She whistled. "Why so long?"

"We're a championship team, Rivera. We can't slack off just because we're off of school." He chuckled like she asked the stupidest question in the world. Her face heated up. "He's got this whole history with the sport. Hates that sometimes we get tired, but it's understandable, due to his condition."

"What condition?"

"He tore his ACL the night of a big game when he was a senior," Danny explained, narrowing his eyes before typing again. "Never got to play the sport again. Had to turn down numerous soccer scholarships and live life sitting behind a desk until the end of time. Luckily, he got the job of coaching, but he's a bit of a hard ass."

Alicia felt something tug at her heart. That was so sad for Coach Harrington. It must've sucked to watch everyone else play the game he loved so much and not being able to participate. She would hate it if she couldn't become a journalist because she lost all feeling in her hands or something of the sort. "That's..."

"Yeah," he cut her off, "but we've won so many games because he's a stickler. It's cool."

"What position do you play?" Alicia had a vague recollection of the game, but knew next to nothing. Kristen was always filling her in at games.

"Forward. With Hotz."

"Oh." Even _hearing _his name made her blood boil. "Are you any good?"

He smirked. "I'd like to say I am. I have been on Varsity since I was in ninth grade."

"And you're a junior now?"

He nodded.

"Impressive."

She was just about to say something else, racking her mind for something witty to say, when her teacher announced they had only ten minutes left until the bell rang. Her eyes flew to the clock above the door at around the same time Dylan pushed her way back into the room. They made eye contact, the redhead glancing curiously at her taken seat before questioning Alicia silently. The latter sent her a look that clearly asked her to play along and furiously went back to typing up her bullshit essay. She and Danny remained quiet.

Alicia cursed inwardly, unable to make up information on the Cold War, wondering why she even got this topic in the first place. She knew next to nothing about American history, hardly caring to pay attention last year. It all happened in the past, so why should she care? It's not like it would occur _again_. Her resources told her something about a missile crisis, but she wasn't in the mood to read up on it—so when the sound of Dylan's heels hitting the tile floor became louder and louder, she was thankful for the distraction. She'd hand this in no matter what grade she'd get. She did _some_ research.

"Hey, Leesh."

She looked up, feigning shock. "Oh. Hey, Dylan. What brings you over here?"

Danny glanced at them curiously as the redhead replied smoothly, "Came here to grab my bag. Thanks for watching it for me."

"Oh, it wasn't a problem," Alicia replied, smiling slightly at Dylan's quick ability to make something up on the spot. She reached over, grabbing the bag at Danny's feet. "I wouldn't want it to get lost or misplaced."

Placing the white tote in her hands, Dylan widened her green eyes just a fraction, indicating with a slight tilt of the head that she wanted to be introduced to Alicia's new friend.

"Oh," Alicia said again, this time flushing. "Dylan, this is Danny. He's a junior. Friends with Chris and all of them."

Smiling tightly, Dylan waved as the older boy nodded his greeting. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he replied. He signed off his school username, standing quickly. "I enjoyed talking with you, Alicia, and Dylan, you seem very nice, but I gotta run. Soccer meeting during lunch." He smiled apologetically, but focused his gaze on Alicia only. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

Alicia grinned coyly. "Maybe."

The two girls watched him go. Dylan waited until the door closed behind him before taking her seat back and looked over at her Latina friend expectantly.

"What?"

"Don't _what_ me, Rivera," she teased, brushing the hair out of her lip gloss. "I know that look."

"_What_ look?" But Alicia knew exactly what she was speaking of. She felt the look Dylan was observing, knew the way her eyes were shining in that _come hither_ way boys loved so much. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink. Her heart thumped abnormally. She was in pursual mode—a mode she had not experienced fully since she wanted Josh all for herself. Sure, the boys over the summer were cute and she wanted them, but this was different. There was something about this she could not pinpoint, but she knew the chase would be exhilarating. Danny Robbins would want her. She was sure of it.

Dylan clicked her tongue, stretching her legs beneath the seat. "He's cute," she remarked, and that was it.

* * *

><p>It was the fourth day of school when Claire realized she had a problem. A big one—and it was staring her right in the face.<p>

Two tables.

Two tables across the room from each other.

Two tables across the room from each other, filled with two entirely different groups of people.

One housed her best friends, four girls in a cafeteria made up of boys.

The other sat her boyfriend and his friends, five boys that managed to break the previous group's collective hearts.

Two text messages.

**MASSIE: **sorry i couldn't wait after class. we have a problem we need to discuss with the pc. hurry up.

**JOSH: **sit with me today?

The choice was the worst she'd ever have to make, but she was confident in her decision. After all, she wasn't known around OCD as being the only girl not easily peer-pressured. She didn't go with the flow (at least that's what she liked to think) and she chose to do things because she _wanted_ to. With a flip of her hair, she stepped forward, glad she packed her own lunch instead of bringing money, and continued on her way, shoving through the masses of boys.

She slowly sat down, placing her bag beneath her seat, and surveyed the people around her.

Across from her, Chris Plovert poured over a textbook, periodically fixing his glasses. Next to him, Derrick Harrington was glued to his phone, smirking lightly at whatever his partner had to say to him. On Chris' left was Cam Fisher, who was ignoring Claire spectacularly. Kemp Hurley was stuffing his face. Josh grinned at her arrival, bumping shoulders with her lightly. "Hey."

"Hi," she said softly. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "I've got a test next period, though."

"On the fourth day of school?"

Chris looked up quickly. "I don't know about OCD, but we don't ease back into the swing of things around here. School picks up where it left off." His tone was only a tad bit patronizing, but Claire still found her lips curling at the sound of it.

Josh opened his mouth to retort, obviously to defend her, but Claire didn't hear it. Her buzzing phone kept her from paying attention to the argument at hand. Her heart raced at the name that flashed across the screen, but she swallowed anyway, and opened the message.

**MASSIE: **are you for real right now?

She wasn't given the ability to respond before she received three more in unison. The other girls' names appeared, accompanied by an envelope.

**DYLAN: **i'm personally offended you chose them over us

**KRISTEN:** nice to know where YOUR loyalties lie

**ALICIA:** coming from you, i figured as much. looks like you're not massie's favorite anymore :)

Claire bit her lip hard, surprised she didn't taste the bitter tang of blood, and sent a quick apology back—_I'm going to have to sit with him sometimes, I'm sure you'll understand_—and wasn't suprised when none of them replied back.

She spared a glance at their table, shrinking back slightly at the magnitude of their glares.

Their phones, of course, were on the table right in front of them. Claire couldn't say she expected anything less.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe her," Massie fumed, storming through the front doors of The Westchester. It may have been three hours after the fact, but the Pretty Committee was still reeling from Claire's betrayal. In retaliation, they decided to go shopping, conveniently 'forgetting' to invite their fifth member.<p>

"I can," Alicia commented lightly. "Starbucks first?"

Kristen sighed, holding her school bag close to her chest. "We're not going to stay here long, are we? I have so much homework to do and a test tomorrow."

"No," Dylan answered, leading the way to their favorite coffee shop. "I've got an appointment with my personal trainer at five."

"She picked _Josh_ over us!" Massie continued to rant, running a hand through her hair. Her curls were flattened but she could care less. If she wanted to make a big impression, she would have gone home and picked out another outfit before racing to the mall. She was still in her Briarwood uniform—tie removed, of course—with the blazer left in the car. This was purely a stress-relieving trip; nothing more, nothing less. "Is she aware of that?"

"Obviously," Alicia replied, "she made the choice. I think we should kick her out for completely disrespecting us."

Their leader made a face, quickly deciding against the option, missing the dejected look that graced her best friend's features. Claire might have made a choice neither of them liked, but Massie was willing to let her do so. She would realize in due time that sitting with Josh was the wrong idea. Massie wouldn't say _I told you so_ when that time came; she would accept Claire back with her usual smug smirk, like she had so many times before.

"Let's just not talk about it anymore," the brunette suggested, exasperated. "This whole thing is giving me a headache."

"Okay," Alicia agreed, licking her lips. "In all the... _excitement_, we never got around to listening to your gossip, Kris."

They entered Starbucks at this point, the scents of various coffee creations wafting through the air. Massie casually glanced up at the menu, already aware of her order, but read the choices regardless. She heard Kristen's soft intake of breath, knew she was shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other, knew she was stalling. This had to be good.

"Well," the blonde said softly before stepping up to place her order, smiling politely at the barista. "I got accepted into the tutoring program."

"That's great!" Alicia smiled genuinely, sticking a straw into her iced drink. She took a long sip, sighing. "I knew they wouldn't pass you up."

"What subjects?" Massie inquired.

"Science and math, mostly, but I'm sure I could get English and social studies in there too."

"Would you really want to do that?" Dylan wrinkled her nose. "That's a lot."

Kristen shrugged. "I have to make sure my resume is flawless. You know that."

"It already is," Alicia pointed out, "despite all the OCD nonsense. They can't take away what you've already done. That's just silly."

"They said they could," Kristen explained. "That's what the letter said."

"You can still put it on there anyway. They're not going to say that Allie-Rose Singer was president of the ninth grade when _you_ were. They just cut you off because you weren't there. You're no longer president, but you _were_."

"I suppose."

"Who are you tutoring? Are you allowed to tell us that?"

"That's what I wanted to talk about actually."

That piqued Massie's interest. Kristen fidgeted again, biting her lip. "I'm not really supposed to say, but... you're my best friends and I'm sure that you would never jeopardize my only extracurricular, right?"

It was made out to be a simple question, but Massie knew this was Kristen's way of enforcing the law. If they spoke one word of this outside their personal bubble, she wouldn't hesitate to kill them. They were proving their loyalties right now. The three around her nodded quickly. In normal circumstances, they would pinky-promise, but nowadays that seemed simply too out of date.

"I have three," Kristen went on to say after she was positive they wouldn't squeal. "Some kid I don't know, Todd—"

"I'm starting to like him a lot better than his sister," Dylan grumbled.

"He's actually kind of cute," Alicia agreed. "If he were older..."

Massie choked on her drink. "You're kidding, right?"

Alicia smiled suggestively.

"—and most certainly the most interesting: Derrick."

This time, Massie felt her world start to close in on her. The ceiling and floor were rising and falling to meet each other. Air was escaping her. She felt her lungs start to demand for oxygen but for some reason, she couldn't quite find any. Slowly, she swallowed, taking a deep gulp of her coffee, and listened, pretending that one name did not have that much of an effect on her.

"Derrick? Derrick _Harrington_?"

"Yep." Kristen nodded. "Seems like we're never escaping them... what with Alicia in his woodshop and you, Dyl, in Kemp's English, and I'm in Cam's math, and Massie's in Josh's Bio..."

"It's like we're destined to cross paths," Alicia murmured thoughtfully. "Which we are, I think, because we're both popular groups of people."

Massie shook her head. "I've seen it happen before. The grade above us—Skye and them—they've had falling outs with their boys and they've managed to get through an entire year without speaking to them. I think it's just us."

"_Great_," Dylan groaned. "I thought we'd have it _easy_ for once."

"Easy?" Alicia giggled. "With _us_? And with _them_? Not a chance."


	11. ten

i know it's been like a month but i've been so busy! i had my play and boy drama and aps. my last one is on monday but i decided to take a break from studying to get this out to you. i hope you don't hate me for the wait, but things are going to get good after this! :)

* * *

><p>...fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two—<p>

A sound emitted from her Mac's speakers stopped Alicia mid-brush. Rolling her eyes in her mirror, she turned away from her reflection and padded over to her computer. Every night she would part her hair down the middle (even though middle parts were _so_ out) and brush each side of her hair sixty times. She absolutely hated being interrupted, but she had a feeling this would be important. It could be Massie. Or Kristen - talking about her tutoring thing with Todd and Derrick. Even Dylan had some fun things to say-

**Daniel Robbins**: hey :)

Alicia felt her heart pound erratically in her chest. Danny Robbins? _Danny Robbins_? Sure, she had been more than super excited that the beyond adorable junior had requested her last week, but she had never expected him to actually talk to her. (P.S. Never let _anyone _know Alicia Rivera wasn't expecting messages from cute boys. That would _so_ ruin her rep.) Forget all about her hair brushing regime; she had some flirting to do.

**Alicia Rivera**: hii

**Daniel Robbins**: what's up?

**Alicia Rivera**: just finished brushing my hair-

_No_, Alicia shook her head, deleting that comment quickly. _That's so middle school. I have to_... Her fingers raced across her keyboard once again. She ignored the jittery feeling spreading throughout her whole body and quickly pressed the enter button.

**Alicia Rivera**: just got out of the shower. you?

So it was a blatant lie, but it was more of an Alicia-esque answer than "brushing my hair." Honestly. She was supposed to be the sultry vixen of the Pretty Committee and here she was winking at _Chris Plovert_ on the first day of school and telling _Danny Robbins_ that she was doing something as childish as brushing her hair sixty times every night. She needed to re-evaluate her life choices.

**Daniel Robbins**: all wet, huh? ;)

She coughed. Winky face. He sent her a winky face. And a sexual innuendo. Oh, _God_. What was she... how was she supposed to react to this? While her mind was spinning, she typed the first thing that came to the front of her brain: _you could say that_.

It was said that he was typing, so Alicia minimized the chat in order to gain her bearings. What appeared on her Facebook dash, however, was something that caused her heart to drop into her stomach. Josh was writing on Claire's wall and Claire was responding and people were _liking _ their posts. Ugh. They weren't even that cute...and it made Alicia absolutely nauseous. No one ever liked _her_ posts on Josh's wall. They never-

What was so special about Claire anyways? She still had those awful bangs and her fashion sense was significantly lacking. She looked like she was twelve and dressed like she was four. The other day, she wore _overalls_ to a sophomore party. Despite the fact that they were sophomores, they had to act like they were the queens of the school, which they would have been, if Claire had not dressed like she were on _Barney and Friends_. It sucked even more that she wouldn't let anyone change her wardrobe. They even offered to pay for it themselves as a little present (Alicia considered it charity but whatever) and she said no. Who _does_ that? God.

Her stomach churned at the sight of Josh's 'xoxo' on Claire's wall and had to swallow the bile that was crawling up her throat. He never wrote things like that on _hers_! It was always ':*' and 'you're so hot' and other phrases or words that would never appear on Claire's. Did she not matter to him? Was she not important enough? She...

The chat was brought back to life again when Danny finally decided to answer. She pressed it, read the message, and tried to calm herself down. She wasn't used to conversations like this. The best she could-and had ever done-was a few winky faces after slightly suggestive texts. Nothing like this. And even those slightly suggestive texts were anything but.

**Daniel Robbins**: i bet you look even better than you do with your clothes on

She reached for her phone, grasping the device, before she dropped it on her desk. This was not the time to be asking Massie for advice. Alicia was the one who could play the boys' games. She always had stories to tell even though they _were_ slightly fabricated to make her seem more like the enigma she was not. Still, she had the most experience (maybe second, since Massie somehow got to second base at Lake Placid). No one had to know she hardly got past making out at a party.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed past the vulnerable, naive personality she really possessed and allowed her alter ago to shine through. Her cousin Nina had taught her the ways of seduction years ago in Spain. She was not going to let that knowledge go to waste.

**Alicia Rivera**: you're not the only one to tell me that

* * *

><p>Saturday afternoons were already going to be difficult, Kristen could tell. Sitting in the library on a perfectly nice day while her friends were off at their favorite spot in the park, eating Red Mango and gossiping was the worst. Especially if hotshot Derrick Harrington was going to be <em>late<em> to his tutoring session.

Hardly anyone was here, which was one of the reasons why he wanted to get together at twelve on Saturdays. No one would see him, and his inability to concentrate in math would not be worldwide knowledge. He needed to maintain a B-plus average in order to stay on the soccer team (Kristen had consulted with his coach yesterday during P.E.) and she was going to make sure that happened. It wasn't because she liked him or anything; it was because the Briarwood soccer team was the best and they could not afford to lose their star goalie.

The librarian looked over at her curiously again, eyebrows creased as if she were debating coming over to talk to Kristen. Again. The sporty blonde averted her gaze to the table, where her own weekend homework (an essay on the American Revolution and a study packet for the first trig test) sat. She had already gotten halfway through the math review and it was only twelve thirty.

Where the _hell_ was Derrick? If he didn't want to show up, fine. He could find another tutor who didn't mind wasting her weekend on him and his awful timing. She could've been with her friends. She could've been figuring out what to tutor Todd in first or that other kid. She could've been elsewhere-

"Hey, sorry, I'm late," a voice spoke breathlessly. It was deeper than she remembered.

"Yeah," she muttered, "a half an hour late."

He flashed a brilliant smile. "We had soccer practice today."

Was that supposed to make it better? Soccer practice? Maybe she would have understood if she were still on the team, any team, really, but she wasn't. "If you had practice, why didn't you schedule this later?" She huffed. "I would've understood. I know how those can get."

"Hate to break it to you, but _our_ practices are little more intense than yours were."

Kristen sighed deeply, biting down on her bottom lip with so much force she was surprised it didn't start bleeding. "Right. Intense. Got it." (She had been at their practices before: they weren't _that_ bad.)

"Yeah, sorry." Derrick drummed his fingers against the table. "So... are we going to get this started or what?"

"Sure." Kristen pushed aside her own work and waited for Derrick to pull his math binder out of his bag. "What are you learning about?"

He flipped through all the worksheets (hardly filled in) and turned it all around to face her. "That."

His notes were flawless, she had to admit. He wrote down everything, clearly labeled the steps, and had all the examples written out neatly. His problem had to be actually _doing_ the problems on his own.

"Okay," Kristen mumbled to herself. "Proofs aren't that hard once you fully understand them. It's all about remembering the rules and applying them to each problem. I don't know what you can and can't do, but I can help you figure out the-"

"Are you friends with Ridder?" Derrick interrupted.

"-who?"

"James," Derrick clarified, brushing the hair out of his face. Kristen could already tell it was getting too long. Massie would've hated it if they were still dating. "James Ridder... plays lacrosse? In your math class..."

"What does this have to do with _your_ math grade?"

"Answer the question, Gregory." Derrick pierced her with his dark-eyed stare, sending a stream of uncomfortable jitters down her spine. Was his gaze always so unnerving? When did he become intimidating? "Are you or are you not friends with James Ridder?"

Kristen rubbed her left eye, scowling at the mascara that appeared on her fist. "Math, Derrick. I'm here for math and I'm going to tell you about the parallel rules you need to-"

"_Gregory._"

"Triangles are..."

"Kristen!"

"...three-sided figures and even though the drawing may look like a triangle, you still have to prove that it is. In order to do that, you need to observe what is given to you and then infer the rest, which will be easy if you can remember all the rules. See, here, you have-"

Her wrists were grabbed gingerly, her pen dropping to the table. "Kristen." His voice had a hard edge to it, offsetting the soft tone he adopted. "Are you friends with James Ridder?"

"I'm here to help you with math, not talk about my social life."

"_Kristen_."

"Why does it matter, Harrington?" she retorted. "It's my life, is it not?"

"He's not a good person," he insisted, letting go of her. She rubbed her wrists, placing them back on her lap. "I wouldn't hang out with him if I were you."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "I'm surprised you care about someone like me, Derrick. I thought you kicked me and the rest of the Pretty Committee to the curb."

"That doesn't mean I want to see you, or anyone else for that matter, make bad choices." Derrick watched her carefully, but she refused to shiver under his stare. It felt like he was searching her soul, the way he was looking at her, like he was trying to find something to use against or figure her out... She swallowed, but he kept going: "James Ridder is a jerk, Kristen. He only talks to you because you're good looking" (_ew Derrick Harrington just called me good looking_) "and will compliment you day in and day out until you have this image of him that is anything but what he truly is. He's manipulative and disgusting. He'll be the type of person you want until you finally agree to go on a date with him and then he'll try to get you to sleep with him. That's who James Ridder is, Kristen. I don't want you to be friends with him. Acquaintances. Nothing. Don't even talk to him."

"Why do you-"

"Just don't do it, okay?" Derrick waited for her to acknowledge his plea and she did with a slight nod before he asked her to explain proofs all over again. "Sorry," he said with a smile, "I wasn't really listening."

They didn't talk about anything but math after that.

* * *

><p><em>Some things never change<em>, Massie mused. Sitting under the huge tree in her backyard with Dylan, Alicia, and Claire, she was amazed that even though so much _could_ change, so much didn't. They were still friends regardless of the tension between Claire and Alicia. They could still sit around and gossip.

"You'll never guess what happened," Alicia giggled, sipping the virgin pina colada Massie had asked Inez to make. They had stolen some rum from the liquor cabinet and had it hidden in the bush closest to them, filling their glasses with the alcohol in order to make the drinks all the more appetizing.

"Ooh, what?" Dylan inquired, glancing around quickly before adding some more to her glass.

Claire shot the redhead a look, shaking her head when the bottle was offered to her. She was perfectly content with her non-alcoholic drinks, even though she was constantly watching over her friends to make sure they didn't get sick.

"Danny Robbins and I had _quite_ the conversation last night," the Latina smiled prettily, her cheeks reddening slightly.

"About?" Massie questioned, taking a swig directly from the rum bottle. She tossed it behind her once again, making sure to cover it completely in case her parents or Inez popped out. She didn't want to take any risks even though it would probably never happen. They hardly cared about her whereabouts.

"Well, I told him I had just come out of the shower..."

"No, you didn't!" Dylan.

"He totally envisioned you naked." Massie.

"_Ew_." Claire.

Alicia glanced curiously at Claire, opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it and addressed Dylan and Massie instead. "And he was all 'all wet, huh?' with a winky face and I said 'you could say that' so he responded with something like 'I bet you look even better than you do with your clothes on'," she stopped talking when Dylan gasped. "And then I said: 'you're not the only one to tell me that'."

"Oh my _God_," Dylan exclaimed loudly, finishing her drink in a gulp. "Leesh, you are my favorite."

Massie giggled, the effects of the rum running its course through her body. She was feeling very carefree and lightheaded, something she liked. "How did the conversation go after that?"

"It got pretty... _heated_," Alicia confessed. "And he asked to hang out with me afterwards."

"You know he only wants to hang out with you because of that conversation, right?" Claire spoke up, raising an eyebrow at Alicia.

The Latina narrowed her eyes. "So?"

"He thinks he'll get laid," the childlike blonde explained slowly, as if Alicia had the mental capacity of a two year old. "Plovert told me about him-they're cousins, you know, and he says that Danny's actually really-"

"Can we _not_ talk about Plovert?" Dylan snapped, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "In case you've forgotten, I hate him."

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, Claire." Alicia pursed her lips. "Those boys _don't_ like us. I wouldn't be surprised if Plovert was making these things up because he doesn't want any of us to be happy. Or to have a good time in his school."

Claire shook her head. "Alicia, he was being serious. He's seen him in action-"

"This is who I am, Kuh-laire. I flirt with boys. I lead them on. I give them things, but I don't give them the prize." Alicia gestured for the rum bottle, tipping its contents into her empty glass. After swirling the liquid around for a moment, mesmerized, she lifted the cup, tilted her head, and consumed it all. "I can handle myself. You don't have to worry about me."

"I do!" Claire insisted. "Alicia, Dylan, Massie: you're all drunk. In daylight. On a Saturday afternoon. That's a _problem_. I need to make sure you get home and don't puke... you basically drank that entire bottle together. And once you get up, you'll fall over because you're wearing sky-high heels and..."

"I can just take my shoes off, Claire," Dylan snorted. "See?" She kicked her stilettos off, watching them land a few feet away. "We're good. Thanks for the concern, though. It's cute."

Massie nodded. "Regardless, my parents don't care. My mom's probably on the phone or shopping online and my dad's working in his office. Inez won't tell a soul and Isaac isn't even here. He's visiting his family. You guys can stay until you're ready to leave. Or until tomorrow. I don't care."

"But _Danny_..."

"Danny thinks I'll give in, right? That's what you're saying?" Claire nodded. Alicia smiled at her, placing a hand on her knee. Massie stared in confusion, but didn't say a thing. This would never happen again. "I won't. I'm smarter than that. I don't want to have sex with him. Or anyone, for that matter. I like to string them along and then let them go. It's more fun that way."

"If he tries to..."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?" Alicia grinned. She caught Massie's gaze and the two seemed to share a message before Alicia even opened her mouth. "That bridge will come _very_ soon," she announced. "Girls, we're going to a party next Friday!"


	12. eleven

bolded names are the twitter names since doesn't allow the at sign ): anyways, i know these are short and little snippets of their lives, but i swear it'll get better when i pick one girl to focus on.

i know some of you wanted more mosh, so there's a little here, and there will be more somewhere along the line. mosh is a big part of this story- whether it's a pairing or a friendship, i won't tell you hehe

thank you so much for reviewing, guys, and i'm still really sorry it took me, like, forever to update before. it might take longer again because i have a senior paper to write (ten pages, uck) and i need to make a powerpoint presentation to show the whole class or i won't be able to graduate! i'm currently writing out chapters, though, so i'm hoping i can just update for that time period. other than that, summer starts so soon for me so i'll be around!

xx

* * *

><p>She shouldn't have been surprised when she was faced with the empty home, but, for some reason, she felt the disappointed pang in the pit of her stomach. Sundays were always the lonely days, full of homework, Gossip Girl marathons, and Chinese food. She was used to it; after all, she spent so many years by herself, but that didn't stop her from wishing Merri-Lee (when was the last time she called her Mom?) would just stay home for once.<p>

Dylan didn't even bother calling to check if she was in the house, instead opting to pad out of her bedroom in her tiny shorts and pajama shirt en route to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. Her head was pounding slightly from the amount of rum she had consumed the day previous, but it was nothing she couldn't handle.

The kitchen was spotless- Merri-Lee must've cleaned before she left- and Dylan casually grabbed her phone, which she had left on the counter last night, to check her messages. One from her mother (_at work, will be home after midnight. Have a dinner party to attend_). Figures. She deleted that one. Two from Alicia (_it's ten why are you not up _and _what should we wear to that party? Mass wants ideas before Fri_).

Ugh, outfit choices already? Couldn't that wait until Wednesday or something? Dylan was still trying to settle into the routine of not seeing girls every day- not having people fawn all over her outfit, considering it was a _uniform_. And to be quite honest, these uniforms were awfully boring. She had already worn it the same way twice after running out of things to do with it. She didn't want to have to focus on a different ensemble when she could hardly use her creativity to spice up her the awful skirt and blazer combo.

She responded anyway with some sort of generic answer, saying she didn't know, maybe they should get together? She still had two messages and the names were enough to make her spit up the orange juice she was trying to consume.

Kemp. Plovert.

They had stopped harassing her once school had gotten underway. She thought they would have ended the charade completely because they hadn't seen her at all and she hardly ate when they had lunch at Briarwood, resulting in binges as soon as she got home. What was the pleasure they were getting out of this? Did they enjoy being judgmental assholes? Girls could eat as much as they wanted without being called a pig. They liked things _other_ than salads and bite-sized pieces of granola and low-fat vanilla yogurt. Dylan liked pizza and burgers (without cheese) and steak. _Good_ things.

Boys were stupid and mean and worse than girls, she had decided. They could raise your self-esteem in the same second they could lower it. They could make you feel like a million dollars and then they'll turn around and bash everything about you to their friends. There was nothing they _couldn't_ do. At least girls had the common decency to tell you straight to your face that they thought you were a bitch or a slut or anything to that nature; someone _always_ told you no matter where their loyalties lied. Boys, on the other hand, had some sort of unspoken rule- Boy Code, she guessed- that guaranteed the saving of secrets.

Girls never knew what was going on until it was too late. Boys were always one step ahead.

Dylan wasn't going to let them get to her. She was stronger than that. This summer had proved it. She used their text messages and voice mails as a way to make herself better. Her personal trainer loved her determination. Haters made you famous, her mother always said, and the terrible things Chris Plovert and Kemp Hurley said about her only made Dylan hotter.

So, after draining her orange juice, she opened their text messages. There was nothing like a good pep talk to get her to-

Racing towards the sink because the bathroom was too far, Dylan saw the orange juice and the rest of the mush in her stomach reappear in the shiny silver drain. Her chest heaved and her eyes burned. She tasted nothing but the stench of vomit. The kitchen suddenly smelled less like cleaning agent and more like the awful taste that was filling her mouth.

Pep talks were _shit_.

Eating was stupid.

Even drinking orange juice would get her fat.

She would never be the skinny girl. She would never look like Massie or Alicia or Kristen. She'd be the pudgy one who ate everything in sight because she thought that's what boys liked. How wrong she was: they liked girls who ate nothing, were prim and proper, and wore cute little barrettes in their hair like they were in grade school.

Remembering she had a whole science lab to do, Dylan raced upstairs, locking herself in her room for the remainder of the day. She didn't care if Alicia had to ask her about outfits- she would never look good in them, no matter what she wore. She left her phone downstairs, unable to even look at it.

How could she erase the memory of seeing _her_ head on a _pig's_ body as it rolled around in a puddle of mud?

* * *

><p>Claire glanced out her window, watching as Alicia and Massie giggled and chortled over something in the latter's bedroom. The blonde rolled her eyes, returning to her computer to finish her English essay on a book she hadn't even read.<p>

Alicia hadn't left like Dylan had the night before, deciding to stay over Massie's in order to give her more details about Danny Robbins and their late night chat. Of course, Claire wasn't invited- she never was when Alicia was involved- so she had to go back to the guesthouse on a Saturday night.

She couldn't even ask Josh to come over and entertain her because he was out with his friends, probably getting drunk because his texts started getting weirder and weirder as the night went on. She didn't care, of course, considering she had to deal with three giggly girls in Massie's backyard hours before. She never minded being the girl who babysat her friends; she didn't want to drink until she was legally allowed. She could get in _so_ much trouble…and besides, her parents would figure it out in a second.

And her family life wasn't that good to begin with. She didn't want to cause more problems than there already were. Her parents were constantly arguing over the benefits of living in Westchester versus Florida and Claire was positive one of them would snap one day. She sometimes wondered if the Blocks could hear them fighting, but she wasn't sure- no one ever questioned them or asked Claire how things were.

According to Massie, William and Kendra were never around to hear anything. Gazing over at Massie's window again (this time the girls were on the computer, shaking their heads and nodding at whatever was on the screen), Claire sighed, wishing she had Massie's life. It was the only constant thing she thought about since moving to New York, but it was the truth. Massie got what she wanted when she wanted it all the time. She managed to catch the eye of the cutest boy in school, got teachers to give her better grades just by being _her_ and had the entire population of OCD in the palm of her hand. Even if she didn't rule Briarwood- yet- she still had all of those boys staring at her as she walked by.

Claire managed to ruin almost everything she touched. Alicia hated her for kissing Josh (but she could never hate Massie for flirting with him). Cam hated her for breaking his heart. But at least she-

**Alicia**: wanna stop looking at us from your window? It's really creepy

The blonde felt her cheeks redden. How long had she been staring at them? Did she really zone out looking in that direction? How embarrassing.

She wished she could respond to the text, but her fingers locked and her brain whirled. Alicia merely smirked at her from Massie's room, turning back to the computer.

Claire rubbed her cheek. Another thing she wished she had: the confidence and drive the other girls did. She always felt self-conscious even when she was doing something she wanted to do. It wasn't fair. Sometimes she felt as if her presence in the Pretty Committee was to make the others look ten times better than she did, that they used her to enhance their looks and personalities. She didn't fit in; not really, no matter how many times Massie said she grounded them. They still got into loads of trouble. Claire hardly did anything to stop them.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn't even see the new inbox she had on Facebook. Sure, she was used to the many notifications she would get when logging on. After becoming friends with the Pretty Committee, so many people wanted to like her profile pictures and write on her wall. It was stupid, actually. Boring. They all said the same thing, all vied for attention she didn't want to give them. Layne hardly talked to her anymore; it was always Josh, Josh, random girls, random acquaintances…

But she never once got a message from Skye Hamilton.

_I hear you're dating Josh Hotz… very impressive, Lyons. Very impressive._

* * *

><p>"Is it just a normal party?" Massie questioned, clicking through her numerous websites. "Or themed or whatever?"<p>

Alicia snorted. "Mass, it's an _upperclassman _party. They don't theme things! You come, you look hot, you get trashed, you leave."

"Wow, I'm sorry," Massie snickered. "Last time I went to an upperclassman party, Skye Hamilton threw it and we had to wear costumes."

"Don't remind me." Alicia groaned. "Josh and I went to _that_ party. Now, I bet you he's going with Claire."

The brunette leader shrugged. "If it's not themed, should we just wear jeans and such?"

"I wanted to wear a skirt," Alicia replied. "Or shorts or something. It's the last party of the summer weather, y'know. Danny also told me to bring a bathing suit."

"And you wanna get with him, right?"

"Yeah." Alicia nodded, checking her Twitter for any good pieces of gossip. None yet, but the day was still young. "So I was thinking something subtly sexy that will make sure he doesn't want to take his eyes off of me, you know?"

Massie remained silent, glancing at the array of suits on her computer screen. "Then don't wear a bikini. That never ends well for you. I'd say monokini. You would look fantastic in one of those."

"True." Alicia licked her lips. "It shows enough to leave to the imagination and that's what I want."

**kgreg  
><strong>Tutoring makes me want to kill myself

**marvilous  
><strong>never eating that again

"What about you, Mass?" the Latina asked, dropping her phone on her lap. She felt bad for Kristen. She was stuck tutoring Derrick Harrington of all people, and Todd didn't seem like the smartest. "Looking to get with anyone?"

Massie wrinkled her nose. "God, no. I'm not interested in boys right now."

"_What_?" Alicia questioned loudly. "_Not_ interested in boys? How can you _not_ be _interested_ in _boys_?"

"After everything that's happened, I just don't want to bother with liking anyone. Besides, I need to make sure I survive in Briarwood," the alpha explained, double clicking on a blank swimsuit. "You should get this one- it would look good."

"You'll survive Briarwood," Alicia insisted, ignoring the suggestion. "This is our time to get to know almost every boy in that school. No one else has this opportunity, Mass. Make the best of it!"

"This is my time to _rule_, Leesh." Massie stretched her arms languidly above her head. "This isn't OCD anymore. We don't have the same privileges anymore. I've been trying to tell you that for weeks. I need to build up our rep in order to get that back and I can't do that if I'm busy trying to get some random boy to like me."

**fisherprice**  
>we just had practice yesterday why do I have to go again<p>

**hoshjotz **  
><em>fisherprice<em> stop whining it's only for an hour

"Mass-"

"If anything happens at the party, I'll let it," Massie reasoned. "I'm just not looking for a relationship or anything like that. I'm not above hooking up with anyone- just not going too far." She clicked on another picture. "What about this one?"

Alicia bit her lip. "I liked the black one better."

**dharrington**  
>rude.<p>

**skydancer**  
>best plan ever? Yes.<p>

"Me too. We'll go shopping tomorrow after school."

* * *

><p>Kristen felt like pulling her hair out. She had never had this experience before, but she literally had her hand tugging on the golden locks, tempted to just keep pulling until it ripped away from her scalp.<p>

If she thought tutoring Derrick was bad, Todd Lyons was even worse.

At least Derrick did his work. Todd didn't understand _anything_ and he didn't seem like he wanted to. His notes were okay, she guessed, but she heard from his teacher that she wasn't a fan of writing notes on the board, so that wasn't entirely his fault. He never once opened his textbook, which is why he failed the first test with a ten percent, and hardly opened his mouth when he was confused.

So trying to teach him about sedimentary rocks was not going over too well.

"Todd," Kristen said in exasperation. "Just read the passage and tell me what you know about rocks."

"It's so long, Kristen," the redhead complained, frowning angrily at the text. "Can't you just tell me?"

"No." She was adamant about him actually learning on his own. She wasn't going to be around all the time and he needed to develop studying habits that he could stick with. "It will take you about two seconds, I promise. Read it. Tell me the characteristics of each type. Write it down. Study it."

Todd crossed his arms over his chest, glaring moodily in Kristen's direction. "I don't know _how_ to study. You don't get it." He placed his palm on the book. "I try. Believe me. I holed myself up in my room for weeks to get ready for finals and I still _barely_ passed. I don't get it. How do you do it?"

"Flashcards," she replied automatically. "Rewriting my notes. Reading. It's easy when you figure something out that works for you, Todd. Let me help with that and all of this will seem so simple."

He sighed and bent his head to read the passage.

Kristen glanced out the window, gaze locked on a group of girls playing soccer in the park across the street. She couldn't see them very well but the technique one of them was using reminded her so much of Kori Gedman that her heart panged. She wished she could still play, wished that she hadn't made the horrible mistake of sneaking out of her house and into a field trip.

This tore at her almost every day. Her soccer ball had to use anymore. She hardly bothered to practice on her roof like she used to; what was the point? There were no games, no one to impress… nothing. She had ruined _that_ chance and was stuck tutoring and studying until she was going to throw up.

"Do you miss it?"

Todd's voice shocked her. She was used to the silence that surrounded them once he had immersed himself in the textbook. Kristen noticed the lined paper next to his arm was filled in like she had asked, and his face bore a curious countenance.

"Soccer?" she clarified, wincing at her hoarse voice. "Yeah."

"You should play," he continued softly, fingers inching towards hers only to stop and grasp his own. "There's nothing stopping you."

"For what, though?" she asked. "I haven't got a team or a coach or-"

"The boys' team."

Kristen felt bad for laughing out loud. Todd looked genuine and serious, but honestly? That was the funniest thing she had heard all day. "I don't think that's possible, Todd."

"It is, though," he pushed. "You were, like, the best player on the Sirens. Everyone can agree with that. Who says you can't play with the Tomahawks? You've done it before."

The memory swarmed her: the cheers of the stands, the look on Kemp's face when she stole the ball from Greyson, the wind whipping through her hair… Oh, how she missed it. But she couldn't possibly play at Briarwood. There were rules, regulations, probably, that said she couldn't. She'd get hurt. Discriminated. She didn't know. There was no point in risking it.

"That's…sweet, Todd," she smiled, "but even if I could, they already had tryouts and the first game is so soon…"

"So?" Claire's younger brother retorted. "They let Hotz try out when he moved here regardless of the time. They'd let you."

She wanted to say no, that it was such a stupid idea, but the look on his face- the honest, naïve look- made her rethink her decision. Instead, she sighed, "I'll think about it, okay? I'll think about it."

His blinding grin made Kristen's heart sink even more.

* * *

><p>Sundays were supposed to be boring, meticulous days full of relaxation and homemade (low-fat) cookies.<p>

After Alicia left to go to the mall with her mother for a dress for some charity event the Riveras had to attend, Massie wanted nothing more than to take a soothing bath, full of lavender-scented bubbles and curl up on her bed to watch her favorite movies.

Instead, she got Josh Hotz and Cam Fisher in her kitchen, drinking tea- that they were making faces at- and covered in mud.

"Thank you for the tea," Josh mumbled, swallowing painfully. "It's… nice."

Cam nodded his agreement, fingers in his lap.

Massie shrugged, settling down into one of the seats at her table, surveying the two boys before her. "Um, as nice as it is to see you again," she started off slowly, "why was I the first person you thought of to call? Why did you call me at all?"

"You're the closest to OCD," Cam answered, breaking a cookie in half. He offered one piece to Josh, who awkwardly took it. Massie wondered vaguely if they were the parallel of Alicia and Claire, but didn't bother asking. Too many questions. "And that's where we practice. Since Hotz is awful with time, he didn't ask for a ride home and neither did I. And then it started raining."

The brunette blinked. "What about your actual friends? Did you forget about them?"

"I thought I told you I wanted to be friends with you, Mass…ie." Josh munched on yet another chocolate chip cookie Inez had set out, carefully averting his eyes from Cam's questioning glare.

"Yeah, but we're not, which is why I asked that question."

"The forwards had to stay later," Cam said quickly, watching Josh as his face fell just a miniscule amount. His mismatched stare landed on Massie again. "Practice for the game on Saturday- are you coming? You better now that you go to Briarwood- so Derrick, Kemp, and Plovert left early and only Robbins and the reserves stayed."

"You couldn't think to ask one of them?"

Josh: "Danny was in a mood afterwards. We don't really talk to the reserves and we thought we could just walk, but it rained and it was _pouring_."

"Yeah, I was alive at that point, Hotz."

Cam rolled his eyes. "Harris was being a bitch and told me to get my own ride home and it would have been awkward to ask Claire, all things considered…" He shot Josh a look. "So I called you. And now we're here."

"Also, I don't have my house keys and my mom isn't home," Josh added.

Massie rubbed her face in exasperation. All she wanted to do was watch television or read a book or _anything_ and she had two of her friends' ex-crushes (or Claire's current boyfriend) in her house. At four-fifteen in the afternoon.

This was going to be _so_ awkward. How was she supposed to interact with two boys she had severed ties with? Was there a book for this? If not, Massie would write one. Girls all over the world needed guidance in this department. For example:

_Prologue: When It Rains, It Pours_

_Boys don't like tea. At least, these boys don't. Even when the entire cup is full of sugar and milk, there is something about tea that they don't like. Cookies are good though. Chocolate chip. Remember that in case this ever happens to you. _

"I guess you can stay for dinner," she finally announced, jumping from her chair. "We're having tacos. Inez makes really good tacos."

"We know," Cam replied rapidly. "Derrick always said- _ow_!"

Massie pretended she hadn't heard him utter her ex-boyfriend's name, pretended that Josh hadn't elbowed Cam right in the ribs to get him to shut up.

"I'll be in the backyard. Clean up in the bathroom: it's down that hall and to the left."

She was very good at pretending.


	13. twelve

i dunno why i'm updating really fast. i still feel bad for how long i was gone before so

this is short but the next chapter(s) make up for it! the party is next yeye

* * *

><p>"I just wanted to say thank you for the other day," Josh started, dropping his books on the desk beside Massie's. The amber-eyed beauty glanced over at him critically, but said nothing. "You didn't have to let us stay, you know."<p>

"I know."

"It was really cool that you did," he plowed on, as if he were ignoring the awkwardness surrounding the two of them. "Y'know, considering we're not friends and everything."

Massie shrugged, eyes focused on the board in front of her. Their biology teacher wasn't in the room yet, so the other boys were milling about and discussing last night's sports game or whatever before they had to settle down. Massie wasn't in the mood to look over at Josh, keeping her gaze on the homework assignment written in pink chalk (read chapter two and answer questions 1-5). "I didn't have a choice, did I?"

"No… you did," Josh answered slowly. "You could've kicked us to the curb or made Isaac drive us home or something."

"Isaac was visiting family," she replied, "and I'm not _that_ mean, Josh. I wouldn't let anyone walk in the pouring rain."

A small smile played at his lips. "You didn't agree with me."

"What?"

"You didn't agree that we're not friends."

She paused, blinking. She didn't. How had she missed that? They _weren't_ friends. At least, they weren't friends the way they used to be, where he would call her up to ask what Alicia might want for Christmas or her birthday or Valentine's Day. They didn't talk about homework or how boring classes were and he most certainly did not tell her embarrassing things about Derrick (like how he'd grin when she texted him)…

"I guess I didn't- but don't get any ideas," she warned, dropping her head into her palm and turning to face him.

"Me? Get ideas? Never."

"Right," she smirked slightly. "Because you're _such _an angel. I know it was you that hid the rest of the tea bags so you didn't have to drink anymore."

He slapped a hand against his heart. "I would _never_ do such a thing! I _love_ tea!"

"And I'm the Queen of England," she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Josh offered his hand quite seriously, grinning at the quizzical expression on her face. "It's nice to meet you, Queen of England."

Massie snorted, her cheeks flushing when the group of boys near her turned to stare at her. She had almost forgotten she was in an all-boys school. How embarrassing was it to make _that_ sound near them? It was so unladylike. "You're so stupid."

"I thought we figured that out already."

"_Cam_ figured that out already," the brunette countered. "I was too busy painting my nails to be bothered with the two of you."

Josh grabbed her fingers, inspecting the purple varnish adorning her nails. "I see you haven't fixed it."

Most of her fingers were immaculately covered, but there was one- her index- that was sort of smudged and bumpy. It was mainly because Josh had decided to jump on the couch next to her, but she blamed both of the boys at her house that day for ruining her manicure.

She shrugged. "I have an appointment at the nail salon on Thursday with the girls so it doesn't really matter."

"Did I just hear you right? Did _Massie Block_ just say her ruined nail _didn't matter_?"

"Yeah, I know. Seems crazy, right?"

"I'm appalled."

"No one's really looking at my every feature here to find something to critique," she explained, flipping her notebook open when their teacher finally decided to start the class. "So it doesn't really bother me that my nails aren't perfect."

Josh's head bent down to scribble whatever was on the board, but she still heard his muffled voice: "Briarwood has done some strange things to you, Block."

Massie swallowed, shrugging in response. She was glad Josh was too busy copying notes to look at her; she was sure her face gave away all of her hidden feelings. She wished being called by her last name didn't bother her as much as it did, that it didn't make her think of Josh's douchebag of a friend with the stupid shaggy hair and purple knees. Even though she disliked him greatly, she couldn't help but feel that annoying pang in her chest whenever she saw him, heard him, thought of him (which she didn't do often, okay?).

"You know what they say," she forced out, shaking her long hair out, "your surroundings can alter character. Or something."

"I can't say I've ever heard someone say that," Josh admitted, "but I'll take your word for it."

"You should, I'm really smart," she returned without a hitch.

"I wouldn't say _really_…"

"Oh, shush, you." Massie flicked him.

"You just _abused_ me!" Josh frowned at her, rubbing at his elbow. She giggled slightly. "Don't laugh at me!" He pouted. "I'm wounded."

She grinned, showing off her perfectly white teeth. "You'll get over it."

"I don't think I will. I should sue you."

Massie scoffed. "I'd like to see you try. My dad has the best lawyers this side of the Atlantic on his side."

"Yeah, well, I bet I could still win the case," Josh retorted. "After all, _you_ committed child abuse."

"Child abuse?" Massie parroted, rolling her eyes. "I flicked you. I didn't, like, beat you to a pulp- but I could, you know. I'm very strong."

Josh chortled, covering his mouth when he realized how loud he was being. "You could beat me up? I'd love to see that."

"Meet me by the fountain after school, then. We'll see who's telling the truth."

"I don't want to beat you up!" Josh exclaimed. "I don't do that!"

Massie grinned. "Then you're forfeiting? That means I win."

"I know what forfeiting _means_, Mass. And no, I'm not doing that- I'm just saying no to the whole scenario."

"Can I tell everyone you got beat up by a girl?"

"What? _No_! You didn't even-"

"_Hotz! Block!_" Their teacher called from the front of the room, stopping mid-lecture to glare at the pair. Half the room craned their necks to follow her stare, looking at Josh and Massie as if they were from a whole other planet. "If you don't settle down, I'll send you down to the principal!"

They muttered their apologies, focusing on taking notes for the rest of the period, but that didn't stop them from glancing at each other every so often to laugh at the whole situation.

* * *

><p>Alicia hated woodshop.<p>

At OCD, she had taken clothing, which basically was a forty minute period of gossiping and flipping through magazines. She never actually lifted a finger in her elective course, but for some reason, she was assigned to an _actual_ class at Briarwood instead. Couldn't she have gotten something she liked? Like journalism?

She didn't even know how to use half of these tools! Hammers were easy, she guessed, but there were so many screwdrivers she didn't understand, and all of these nails, and don't even get her started on the electric drill. That was _scary_. Why did they let boys use these things? They were only fifteen and sixteen- they weren't old enough (or mature enough) to control these things. What if they got mad at someone and shoved the drill in that person's eye?

Oh god, Alicia was never going to get any of her assignments done.

She guessed she was staring at the tools at the table very intently because Derrick's voice finally sounded: "Do you, uh… need help?"

_Do I need help_? she mused, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Probably, she decided, since she didn't know what outfit to wear to this party on Friday or if she should bother eating lunch for the rest of the week. She didn't want to be bloated by the time she was to be seen at an upperclassman party. That would be embarrassing times infinity. She had people to impress: girls to wish they were her; boys to want her. Bloated stomach would _not_ be the right look for that.

Besides, she doubted Danny Robbins wanted to get with a girl who was bloated. Ugh.

"Do I look better in red or teal?" she questioned.

Derrick blanched, blinking as if that was the weirdest question he had heard all day. "Um, I meant with the whole woodshop thing…"

"I know," she returned, fingering the pliers near her left elbow. "Answer the question, though."

"Uh… r-red?" he stammered, coughing. "Do you need help?"

His repeated question fell on deaf ears. Alicia was too busy planning out an outfit based around the color he had chosen. "Are you going to that party on Friday?" she asked, tapping a quick text on her iPhone to Massie.

"There are a bunch of parties on Friday, Rivera," Derrick replied easily, back into his suave, smooth personality. "Be a little more specific."

"I don't know who's it is," she told him, balancing her phone on her knee. "Danny Robbins invited me to it, though. Said it would be fun."

Derrick nodded slowly. "Carson Davies', then. He always throws the first party of the school year."

"First party…?" Alicia frowned, glancing down at her blank screen. When was Massie going to answer back? "I've been to parties already."

The star goalie grinned. "Right. 'Parties'," he air-quoted in a fashion similar to Massie, "I wouldn't say those were _parties_, per se. It's cute you think they are though."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, biting down on her lower lip. She could taste the lip gloss she had applied earlier that morning, but she was so confused she didn't feel guilty about scraping it off the way she was.

"Those are just an excuse for you girls to get together and look at each other's tans or something." He shrugged, doing something weird with a saw. "This is a _real_ party. I'm not surprised you haven't been to one before. The Pretty Committee seems kind of… prudish, to be honest."

There was a twinkle in his eye that Alicia didn't like. "We are not, Harrington," she snapped. "Just because we don't get with everything that walks like you and your friends doesn't mean we're prudes." She crossed her arms angrily over her chest.

"I don't know why you do that," Derrick nodded towards her arms. "It just amplifies your cleavage. That's why boys keep getting you pissed off. You're not protecting yourself or anything."

Alicia let out an annoyed squeak, gripping her seat with her fingers. "What's a 'real' party?" she demanded.

"The ones you're probably not allowed to go to," Derrick answered. "There's alcohol and drugs or whatever. _Fun_ parties. Nothing like those stupid dinner things our parents are always making us go to."

"I've been to those before." She rolled her eyes. Nina was always taking her to those during the summer when she visited Spain. She had her fair share of drunken nights, giggling with her cousin, and kissing nameless boys, and dancing to music on the tops of tables.

"I'm sure you have," Derrick snickered. "I'll figure that out for myself."

"So you'll be there?" Alicia questioned, sounding bored and annoyed. Which she was.

The blonde nodded. "So will my friends. And the entire soccer team."

"Cool."

He flashed her a cocky grin, resuming his work. When she was positive he was immersed in his assignment, she dropped her head and sent Massie a quick text, her heart pounding in her chest.

_Change of plans. We need to look ten times hotter than originally planned. Derrick and the boys will be there. _

Once that was done, she slipping her phone back in her bag and looked up at the time. She had ten minutes before class was over and almost everyone was done making whatever the cute old man had asked them to make.

"Um, can you help me with, uh…"

"We're making birdhouses," Derrick informed her, flipping the hair out of his eyes.

"Right. Can you…?"

He grabbed the pieces of wood in front of her and quickly got to work while she watched in confusion from her seat. How did he _do_ that?

* * *

><p><strong>Alicia Rivera<strong>: derrick, cam, josh, kemp, plovert + whole soccer team are gonna be there  
><strong>Massie Block<strong>: ew  
><strong>Claire Lyons<strong>: yeah, I forgot to tell you josh told me he was going  
><strong>Alicia Rivera<strong>: would've been helpful but whatevs  
><strong>Dylan Marvil<strong>: do we have to go? I don't think I want to  
><strong>Alicia Rivera<strong>: yes! We got invited to a party being held by UPPERCLASSMEN do you not understand how serious this is  
><strong>Kristen Gregory<strong>: it's really only serious for you, leesh. None of us want to get with anyone as much as you do. Besides, the boys soccer game is the next day…  
><strong>Alicia Rivera<strong>: the soccer boys are going regardless. I don't even want to go to that game  
><strong>Kristen Gregory<strong>: I do! They're against Greyson again and that's always a good game  
><strong>Dylan Marvil<strong>: ew  
><strong>Massie Block<strong>: I'll go with you, kris  
><strong>Claire Lyons<strong>: I would go too but I have the dr  
><strong>Massie Block<strong>: that sucks ): I'll keep you posted tho!  
><strong>Alicia Rivera<strong>: guys can we not focus on a stupid soccer game? We need to figure out what we (mainly me, though) should wear to this party THIS IS SERIOUS  
><strong>Dylan Marvil<strong>: I thought we were going shopping tomorrow  
><strong>Massie Block<strong>: I thought you wanted to wear shorts and that bathing suit we picked out  
><strong>Kristen Gregory<strong>: all you have to do is wear shorts over it, you'll look hot I promise

* * *

><p>Dylan frowned in the mirror, turning in every direction. The bathing suit top she was trying on was the perfect color for her hair and skin color, but it didn't quite fit her body the way she wanted it to. Especially when she was standing next to someone like Alicia.<p>

The Latina's chocolate hair fell down her back in waves, stopping just a few inches above her butt. Her every curve was accentuated in the monokini she had picked out, her tan skin peeking out in the best places. She twirled around and around, observing her perfect figure in every angle possible.

"I don't think I like how this looks," she finally sighed, turning on her heel to skulk back into the dressing room. "I look fat."

The redhead frowned slightly. If Alicia thought she looked fat, how must she look in her eyes? She was probably _massive_. An elephant. A cow. A- a pig.

The mirror wasn't exactly helping. The lighting was showing her every blemish- even the carefully concealed mini zits she fought so hard to hide this morning- and highlighted her inability to tan as easily as Massie and Alicia. Her hair was starting to frizz due to the humidity outside. She was a mess compared to the rest of her friends. Even Claire looked better than she did.

"That looks good on you," Kristen said softly, throwing her braid over her shoulder. Her bikini looked absolutely fabulous on her. Her soccer toned abs seemed to mock Dylan's pudgy stomach and all she wanted to do was cover up until the end of time. Her summer bootcamp had _not_ done the wonders she thought it had.

Dylan bit her lip. "I don't think so."

"It's the perfect color for you!" Kristen continued, straightening out her top. "And it fits you really well. I think you should get it."

"I…don't think I'm going to," Dylan murmured, casting one last angry glance at herself in the reflective surface. "I have other things I could wear at home."

Alicia appeared from the dressing room, a pile of suits over her left arm. "You are _not_ wearing something you already own, Dylan," she scolded. "This is the hugest party we've ever been invited to and I'm not going to let you, or anyone else, ruin that for us. Buy that. You look good. I don't know why you think otherwise. As for me… I'm not sure this store has what I'm looking for. I'll take Mass over to BCBG and we'll meet up in ten, kay?"

She was gone before Dylan could utter a single word.

Ten minutes later, the youngest Marvil begrudgingly bought the swimsuit and followed Kristen and Claire as they went off to the nearest Starbucks to find their other friends.


	14. thirteen

this is super long, guys! i hope you enjoy it and the next chapter will be a continuing of the night, but i just thought starting it off the way i did was a little bit more exciting. (:

some of you are not going to like what's going to happen, but i promise that there is a reason for all of it! twitter has returned in this chapter as well!

i'm really nervous for this chapter because this (and the next one) literally set forth so many plots. so tell me what you think! you can yell at me or whatever it is you want to do - i don't care (:

* * *

><p><strong>Late Fridayearly Saturday**

"I can't fucking believe you!"

"You never said I couldn't!"

"I never said you _could_."

"If you had just said something, I _would_-"

Without warning, Derrick's fist flew at Cam's face, smashing right into his nose. Like all fights, it was awkward and violent, nothing like the choreographed ones seen on television. The sickening crack that had resulted after the punch only made Cam angrier. Blood dripped from his left nostril, splattering the floor beneath him as he lunged towards his best friend, practically leaping across the room to pin him against the wall. Their faces were mere centimeters apart, but the two could only see red.

"Hit me," Derrick snapped furiously. "I dare you."

It was a drunken request, but the blonde knew from experience that Cam would never back down from a dare no matter what.

Cam's eyes narrowed, almost as if he were surveying Derrick's swollen eye and frighteningly dark bruise on his jaw. Regardless of how he perceived his friend, he raised his arm just enough, ready to hit him.

Only to be stopped by Kemp.

"_Morons_," he hissed, literally pulling Cam away from Derrick, and shoving him on to the opposite side of the room. "You guys are like a fucking _soap opera_. Stay there, Harrington, or I swear to God I will-"

"-if the two of you would just fucking stop and _think_," Plovert's voice rose over Kemp's, "you'd see that this is not that big of a deal. Keep your mouth_ shut_, Fisher. I don't care who threw the first punch; we have other things to worry about. Bigger things to worry about."

And this bigger thing was found in the prone form of Josh, who was sitting stoically on the couch, staring out into nothingness.

* * *

><p>Alicia didn't think she would feel any different.<p>

She didn't think she would be able to notice that something had changed.

But, crawling under her covers, she _could_. There was something off about her whole body, some itch she wanted to scratch but couldn't reach. She felt it everywhere, wanted so desperately to claw at her skin until she could get rid of it.

At the same instant her room started spinning, hot tears spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks. It took all of her strength to keep from sobbing out right, shoving her face into her pillow while the rest of her caught up with her tear ducts.

Bawling and shaking, Alicia knew she would regret acting this way when she woke in the morning. For once, she didn't care how she was acting- she felt violated, sore, and _dirty_, and it was all her fault.

No one else's. Just her own.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you're okay to get to your bedroom?" a voice whispered to Massie's right.<p>

The brunette jumped, unaware of another presence besides her own. She turned her head so fast, the entire world seemed to flip over. Claire's shape and form did not seem to change, however, and Massie was more than relieved that the blonde gripped her arm to keep her upright.

"Maybe I should take you there, spend the night…?"

Massie shook her head, a small smirk playing at her lips. "No, I'm good. Thank you for getting me this far."

Something flashed in Claire's eyes, almost as if a switch was being turned on. In the next second, she returned to normal, although her smile seemed a bit forced. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Massie said absently. She felt as if she should be annoyed, but she couldn't quite place her finger on _why_. She shook her head again, eliminating these less than stellar thoughts from her mind. "Just go home, sleep. We'll talk tomorrow, yeah?"

"Uh, sure." Claire eyed her one last time before stalking across the lawn.

Massie watched her go for a while before she decided to trek up to her bedroom, where her bed was waiting. And her bed sounded so heavenly right now.

It was really nice out; the wind was just cool enough to barely raise goosebumps. Massie's body was too warm for that and she actually relished in the early morning air. Taking a deep breath, she focused all of her energy on walking straight in her heels. It would suck if one of her parents were still up and she was tripping over everything in sight.

It didn't matter, really, because Dad was on a business trip again- like usual- and Mom was probably sleeping like a log. Massie would only really have to worry about Inez, but her housekeeper would never rat her out for coming home drunk. She'd just fetch her a glass of water and make her something to eat, like she did that other time Massie got caught, and be on her merry way.

Massie kind of hoped she would be there, in the kitchen, because she was actually kind of hungry.

The walk to her front door wasn't as long as she anticipated and soon she found herself in the foyer of her house, awkwardly pulling her feet out of her shoes with one hand on the wall to make sure she didn't fall over. Her toes breathed in relief when they hit the wooden floor; Massie no longer feared landing flat on her face.

She roamed the downstairs for a while, filled a glass full of ice water (ignoring the twinge of disappointment when Inez was nowhere to be seen) and was about to make her way upstairs when she bumped into a familiar figure.

"Sorry, I was just-"

"Uh, hi, Mark," Massie greeted lamely, eyes widening slightly at the sight of her gardener. "What are you doing here?" It was like one in the morning.

"Oh. Um," he paused, licking his lips. He stuttered over his next few words: "Just taking care of the garden in the backyard."

Massie took a sip of her water. "This late? Or early, or whatever?"

"Y-yeah," he replied quickly, fingers twitching by his sides. "You have some plants that should only be watered in- uh- complete darkness so I figured I should, um, come by to make sure they don't die… and stuff. Your mother is very proud of her plants, you know."

"I do," Massie murmured thoughtfully. "She won that stupid gardening award because of them, which I think is silly because _you_ do all of our gardening… I doubt she knows what a rake is."

"I wouldn't say that about your mother, Massie," Mark said evenly, swallowing. "She's a sweet woman."

"I guess." Massie shrugged. "Your shirt's buttoned up wrong, Mark." She hardly waited for him to respond, turning on her heel and climbing the grand staircase to her bedroom. "Have a nice night!"

* * *

><p>Dylan felt absolutely awful. The contents of her stomach were rolling again, and someone bent her head closer to the toilet. What came up was nothing but liquids- dark, light, colored… Everything that she had consumed was now in eyesight all over again.<p>

It made her nauseous- or she already was, it was hard to tell.

"Dyl," Ryan murmured softly, "did you eat before this party?"

"Of course she didn't, Ryan. Stop asking questions you know the answers to," Jamie snapped.

"_Shh_! She doesn't need someone to berate her-"

"She does! Ry, look at her. She's a _mess_!" Jamie huffed angrily. "Dylan, I swear, when you sober up, I'm going to-"

Ryan cut her off, "Dylan, please answer me. Did you eat?"

Dylan shook her head slowly, fearful of the vomit that she felt stirring in her stomach once again.

"Okay… okay… next time, sweetie, make sure to eat something." Ryan pulled her hair back, tying it into a knot at the base of her neck. "Never drink on an empty stomach."

"Why are you home?" Dylan croaked, looking up at her twin older sisters with red-rimmed eyes. "I thought you were in…" She swallowed roughly, taking a deep breath as a wave of sickness engulfed her once more. "…college."

"We are," Ryan replied nicely, wiping at her younger sister's forehead with a damp cloth. "I was missing this place so we decided to stop by for-"

"Eat this," Jamie interrupted, shoving a piece of bread in the redhead's face. "It won't fix anything but you'll feel better."

Dylan shook her head frantically, but she felt Ryan open her mouth anyway, breaking off a piece of bread and dropping it on her tongue. It tasted disgusting; all she wanted to do was spit it out, get it away from her mouth, and continue to feel bad by her lonesome.

"Swallow," Ryan instructed.

_No, no, no, _Dylan thought quickly, making a face, _please don't make me eat this. Please don't make me eat anything…_

* * *

><p><strong>Friday: 5:45PM <strong>

The party had started fifteen minutes ago, but the Pretty Committee, as usual, had to make an entrance. Despite the fact that no one would really notice what time the five girls arrived, they still felt superior when they waltzed in after everyone else.

Carson Davies' house was huge. It rivaled Alicia's, which was the biggest of all houses in the district, and that was a feat all in its own. There were no signs of cars on the block, but the pumping sounds of house music were hard to avoid. Dubstep was practically heard from down the block.

The inside of his home was even more extraordinary. There were bottles of hard liquor all over, coolers full of beers, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Massie took a moment to take it all in- the house, not the illegal substances- and found herself impressed with the layout. From what she could gather (and she was only doing this in case they had to make a speedy escape), the staircase led to the upstairs, there was a kitchen over to the side, and a bunch of halls that must've led to other various rooms.

"Okay, girls," she exclaimed with a clap. Dylan stopped fidgeting with her shorts. Kristen's hand dropped from her wavy locks. Claire was in the middle of biting her thumb. Alicia was the only one who looked positively thrilled. "One last outfit check before we separate. And if you find yourself in any trouble, you can just-"

"-call you, yeah, we got it the first sixty times," Alicia rolled her eyes, stepping up. "Rate me first!"

Massie sighed, unable to find it in herself to scold her best friend for interrupting her yet again that day. It seemed as if she was constantly running over Massie's sentences or cutting her off for one reason or another, but she didn't particularly care. Alicia was excited. She was allowed to be. After all, one of the cutest junior boys invited her to this very party.

To top it all off, she was probably the best dressed out of all of them. And rightfully so. Her black monokini showed just the right amount of tanned skin and her distressed pink shorts accentuated her long legs. Her toenails, painted a vibrant red, were noticeable in her dark gladiators.

"You look great, Leesh," Massie praised. "Ten, no doubt."

Alicia beamed.

"Me next, I guess," Dylan muttered. Her red locks were tamed in a braid and her makeup was light versus Alicia's dark and exotic. She was simply dressed, wearing a solid white shirt and paint-splattered jean shorts over her patterned bikini. "I know it's not much, but I didn't want to get _too_ dressed up-"

"No." Massie shook her head. "It's perfect. You look… nine point nine, definitely."

Color flooded Dylan's cheeks. "Thanks."

Kristen was wearing her usual off the shoulder top and Claire was her normal five-year-old self, which really contrasted with the type of party being held. Still, Massie could not find it in herself to give anyone a bad rating that night, so she settled with a nine point seven for Kristen and a nine point three for Claire. No one seemed to mind.

"You're a ten, too, Mass," Alicia began quickly, eyes darting around the room. The music had gotten louder at some point during their observations of each other, making it harder to hear the girl speak. "You don't look as good as _I_ do." A mischievous glint twinkled in her eye. "But it'll do."

Massie snorted. "Right. Because I look _better_, thank you very much."

Alicia slapped a hand against her heart. "As if," she exclaimed. "I worked so hard for this outfit!"

"I know- it was a joke." The brunette alpha looked down at her own ensemble, already aware that Alicia stole the show. Massie hardly tried, even though it looked like she did. A light, striped long sleeved shirt tucked into a black flowy skirt wasn't one of her better outfits, but it was the last time she could wear something as summery and simple as it again. It worked with her body type, however; she couldn't ask for any more than that.

"Good." Alicia grinned. "Now, can we go? I don't want to be a Sober Sally!" She spared a glance at Claire, who tucked a lock of hair behind her ear sheepishly. She would not be having one alcoholic beverage that night, no matter what happened. She refused to do such things.

"Yeah, but before you go, remember that-"

"-you're just a phone call away. Yeah. You always are."

"Meet up on the front lawn at, like, twelve thirty!" Massie called after Alicia's disappearing form. "We'll leave then!"

Alicia waved her hand before she was gone altogether.

Massie glanced at her other friends. Kristen looked uncomfortable. Dylan was eyeing the door as if she wanted nothing more than to escape. Claire had this look on her face that made her seem better than everyone else around her. Weird.

"Come on," the brunette ordered, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Let's get some drinks, shall we?"

Twenty minutes later, Massie found herself in the company of only Claire. Kristen had gone off to talk soccer with some of the girls on the Sirens, and Dylan had run in the opposite direction when she saw Kemp and Plovert.

Massie didn't know the last time it had just been her and Claire in the same room. Alone. Together. It must've been before Lake Placid. Ever since then, Claire had isolated herself or Massie was always with Alicia, who didn't want the blonde girl anywhere near her after the Josh incident. The brunette wanted nothing more than to ask Claire how she was, how dating Josh was going for her. She had so many questions- she felt like she hardly knew Claire anymore, and she was supposed to be her one true best friend! Trying to talk confidentially was out of the question here, especially since there were so many people around to overhear their conversation. No one could know that Massie Block was insecure about losing her friend or that she was worried about anything. She was supposed to be the strong one. Petty things like feelings did not bother people like Massie Jillian Block.

She was going to open her mouth regardless, to ask Claire if she was sure she didn't want anything to drink, when Josh appeared, in his hand, two cups.

"My two favorite ladies!" he greeted amicably. "Looked like you could use a refill, Mass." He pushed the drink in her hand, mumbling something about it being vodka and coke.

Claire smiled at him. "Hey."

"Hi," he returned, flipping his hat around. "Are you two bored? You sure look it. Come hang out with us!"

Massie raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Are you drunk already, Hotz?"

He grinned in her direction. "Maybe," he replied with an air of mystery. "Maybe not. And maybe, just maybe, we've managed to sneak an entire bottle of Svedka from that table over there"- he gestured with his thumb to the living room- "and have got the whole thing to share between the five of us. Six, if you want to hang out with us, Massie." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Claire frowned. "Mass, when did you-"

"Well," Massie ignored her, bringing the mixed drink to her lips. "You did call me one of your favorite ladies. How can I say no to that?"

"Great!" he cheered, spinning around. "We're going to have _lots _of fun, let me tell you."

The two girls followed him as he moved throughout the crowd. Before they could get any farther than the hallway, Claire grabbed Massie's arm and hissed, "When did you and Josh become friends?"

"We were always friends, Claire." Massie continued her pace, keeping her eye on Josh's backwards Yankees cap.

"That's not what you said a couple of weeks ago," Claire insisted, digging her nails into Massie's arm. "You hated him, hated _all_ of them."

Massie shrugged. "He and Cam got caught in the rain, so they came to my house. They're okay. Now, will you _please_ let go of me?"

Claire's fingers dropped to her side again, her mouth in the shape of an 'o.' "He and Cam went to your house?"

"Yeah," Massie replied slowly. "They said it would have been weird if they went to yours."

"Oh," Claire replied. "Maybe I shouldn't go hang out with them… it might be awkward, then."

"Maybe," agreed Massie, "but you've been eating lunch with them, so it'll probably be the same. Just that everyone is drinking."

Claire bit down on her lip. "Do you think it would be a good idea?"

"I mean, Josh _is_ your boyfriend, so I think it would be stupid to not go hang out with him, you know?"

"But-"

"It won't be awkward unless you make it awkward," Massie advised. "And if I'm there, it won't be. You'll have me to talk to too, not just Josh."

"Are you worried about Derrick?"

Massie snorted, glancing in amusement at the blonde beside her. "Derrick? Nah. He's nothing to me."

Claire frowned, searching the brunette's face. Massie lifted the cup to her lips again, taking a substantial swig in hopes that the blonde would be unable to detect the lie. Sure, Derrick was her first real boyfriend, the first real boy she did anything with, but she wouldn't make things awkward. She was friends with Cam and Josh weirdly enough; she would be fine.

If not, she was good at pretending.

* * *

><p>It hadn't taken Alicia long to find Danny. He was practically the life of the party. Situated in the middle of the living room, the dark haired junior was taking shots like there was no tomorrow with a few of his buddies. There were a number of pretty girls around him, but Alicia felt her palms start to sweat when his blue-eyed gaze sought her out of the crowd.<p>

She fought the urge to smirk at Skye Hamilton, who looked rather put out that the boy had moved away from her flirting to associate himself with Alicia.

"Hi," he grinned adorably, cheeks flushed.

"Hey," she returned flirtatiously, rocking back on her heels.

"Having fun?"

"I just got here, so no, not yet."

His facial expression changed very quickly. "Oh! C'mere, then." He grabbed her hand and she panicked slightly since it had been clammy and gross before, but he didn't seem to mind. "Uh, Skye, can you move?"

The blonde glared angrily at Alicia as she moved out of the way, allowing for a spot in the circle for the sophomore. Alicia couldn't help the way her heart lifted in her chest. Danny Robbins just pushed _Skye Hamilton_ out of the way for her! For Alicia! He asked Skye to move so Alicia could be next to him!

Skye and her stupid DSL Daters huddled close together, taking turns blatantly staring at Alicia's back. The younger girl shivered.

Danny looked over his shoulder and nudged her gently. "Don't worry about them, Leesh" (_oh my god he called me Leesh oh my god_) "Skye's wanted to hook up with me since the summer started. It's kind of pathetic now."

Alicia nodded meekly. "She is a rather pathetic person."

Danny snorted. "Too true," he agreed, pushing a line of shots her way. "Here. Drink these. You'll start to have fun soon."

"Uh, what is it?"

He pointed to the clear bottle across the table. "Tequila. It's some good shit."

"Right." She lifted one in her hand, inspecting the way the light reflected off of it. She had never had tequila before… wasn't there supposed to be salt and a lime or something like that? Maybe that was the wrong thing she was thinking of. She didn't want to ask in fear of being made fun of. She was obviously not as experienced as the rest of the teenagers in her general vicinity, so she merely tilted her head back and swallowed the bitter liquid.

She did it more times than she could count.

After what she thought was the fifteenth (and what Danny really said was seven), Alicia started to feel a little woozy. The room was spinning slightly, everything anyone said made her burst out into fits of laughter, and her mind was telling her to kiss everyone in sight.

It was easy to forget about that last part since she didn't really want her lips touching any of these other people. She wanted Danny as much as she did earlier. He looked like he'd be a really good kisser…

Someone ruffled her hair but she wasn't sure who it was. Danny had introduced her to his friends while she was taking the shots, so it was hard to remember who was who. She knew Skye had left in a fit earlier on because Danny stopped paying attention to her. That enlarged Alicia's ego mainly because an older boy wanted to talk and flirt with her more than he did with Skye Hamilton, and Skye was not an ugly duckling.

"I like your bathing suit," he whispered in her ear. His voice was huskier than usual. Alicia could feel tingles going up her spine.

"Do you want to go swimming?" she suggested eagerly, intertwining their fingers and pulling him outside.

He only laughed in response.

She didn't even care how childlike she sounded. Swimming was _fun_. And if she could show off her bathing suit, who cared? She looked good and she was having fun. It was a win-win situation.

Carefully stepping out of her shorts, she jumped into the pool, giggling at the annoyed looks random girls gave her. If they were in the pool, why did it matter if she splashed them? They were wet anyway.

Whatever. It didn't matter.

The water was nice against her skin. It was sparkly and shimmery in the moonlight. It felt weird against the patches of skin that weren't covered by her bathing suit, though, but the warmth of someone's hands quickly fixed that.

She was twirled around, her back against the side of the pool. There were couples on the grass, looking up at the stars, or drinking from red cups. She didn't know many of these people, though, which was one of the downfalls of being the few sophomores invited to a huge party like this. There was no one who mattered to make jealous. Olivia Ryan wasn't here to spread the gossip like Alicia had hoped. Skye would, she knew, but she was afraid she would say something completely false, unlike Olivia, who was too stupid to make up lies.

"Having fun now?" Danny asked, pulling her out of her reverie.

"Yeah," Alicia nodded, blinking water out of her eyes. "This pool is fun."

"Wanna know what else is fun?"

"Sure."

Danny's fingers slipped through the cut outs in her bathing suit. His thumbs rubbed against her exposed skin while the other four digits held her back gingerly. His head moved closer to hers. Alicia could feel her heartbeat quicken. She barely had time to prep herself or cheer mentally before his lips were against hers.

She responded to the kiss eagerly, moaning lightly when his tongue entered her mouth. She never knew someone's lips could move this well against her own, but it was happening. Pulling him closer to her body by his own hips, she tilted her head more to the right and cupped his face in her hands.

This was better than she imagined it to be. So, so, _so_ much better-

"Are you _kidding_?" a nasally voice shouted.

The pair broke apart, their faces turned to the source of the disruption. Skye stood a few feet away from them, her friends flanking her; they all wore similar looks of absolute shock mixed with disgust.

"I can't- ugh- _you_," Skye rambled, running an agitated hand through her hair. "Whatever. Stupid. Let's go back inside, girls."

The DSL Daters followed their leader as she had a hissy fit back into the house.

Alicia giggled, glancing over at Danny again. His blue eyes twinkled brightly at her. His mouth formed the briefest of amused grins before it was back on hers, resuming their previous activities.

* * *

><p>Whoever had given this cup to Dylan was shit at mixing drinks. The alcohol to soda ratio was completely screwed; all she tasted was the harsh rum- or maybe it was vodka… it didn't matter in the long run, though. All she could taste was that, anyway, and she didn't know if she cared. It gave her something to focus on other than the fact that she had to literally <em>bolt<em> in order to avoid Kemp and Plovert.

After their latest message, she was terrified of seeing them in person. What if they started acknowledging her massive size in person? That was one of the reasons she didn't want to come to this party. She knew they were going to be there and she wasn't sure how they would act around her when they were drunk. It wasn't like they knew their boundaries when they were sober, but after a few drinks, they probably didn't even have any.

She knew she looked like garbage compared to her friends. Even Claire looked better and she didn't even bother trying to pick out an outfit all week. Dylan would never be as skinny or pretty as the other Pretty Committee members. There was no denying it. Maybe once she could believe she was equal to their beauty, but thanks to Kemp, Plovert, and their most heartwarming text messages, she was no longer as confident.

Pep talks couldn't take her very far. She officially saw herself as the girl who boosted everyone else. It wasn't Claire, like Alicia was always saying; it was Dylan. Dylan with the frizzy red hair and the chubby body. The only reason she stayed this long was because her mother was famous. That's all she was good for.

"Whoa," a deep voice sounded, "slow down."

"Why?" she muttered, slapping her empty cup on the counter. "Why does it matter to you?"

"Because pretty girls need to be careful who they drink around," he responded, reaching a hand out to stop Dylan from pouring even more vodka in her cup. She only slapped him away.

"I don't see any pretty girls around here so I think we're good to go."

"I was talking about you." He pulled the bottle out of her grip, setting it back down on the counter.

"Good joke," Dylan snorted. "Did someone pay you to come over here and tell me that? Let me guess: it was either Kemp or Plovert."

"Uh, no…" the boy frowned in confusion. "My mother raised me respecting women. I don't want to see some horny boy take advantage of you because you're too drunk to remember your name."

"No one would take advantage of me," Dylan insisted, "but thank you anyway. That's very nice of you. Tell your mother she knows how to raise children. Bye."

She grabbed her cup, scurrying out of the room before that boy (he was kind of cute) could say anything else that might make her do something incredibly stupid.

* * *

><p>How Massie got into this situation, she didn't really know. She wanted to blame it on the bottle of vodka currently sitting in the middle of their circle, but she knew she had something to do with it as well. She couldn't be pointing fingers if she was having fun.<p>

It seemed kind of surreal that she was actually enjoying herself with the five boys she had mentally killed off four months ago (and to be honest, their deaths in her head were tragic). She had never anticipated ever being in the same vicinity as them and even so, she imagined herself avoiding them the same way Dylan had, not willingly following them.

But it was hard to say no to Josh, she realized. He was so peppy and fun, something she had learned when he and Cam had stayed at her house for what felt like hours.

To this day, she still didn't know why she let them hang around until nine thirty, but she was grateful for the company. Her parents were nowhere to be found that day and she got kind of lonely when it was like that. Sure, Inez was fun to be around and she taught Massie how to make these delicious muffins last week, but all the brunette wanted was someone to hang around with. Someone fun. Alicia was out of the question for the sole fact that she was getting fitted for a dress. Claire was probably doing homework that day. Dylan had her own Sunday routine and Kristen was tutoring. So, really, Massie wasn't all that upset when Josh and Cam showed up at her front door.

In fact, she liked their company. They were silly and stupid, hiding things like her tea collection and bugging her to make cookies with them (because they had eaten all the ones on the table). They managed to ruin her manicure and gossiped with her, even though they didn't like calling it 'gossip.' Without them, she would have gotten in the bath and watched her favorite movies, but she would have been so bored.

"Massie, what's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?" Derrick asked, his words slurring into each other. His fingers gripped the neck of the bottle settled in between his legs.

"Uh, can I pass?"

"Not if you want this." The blonde gestured to the bottle before taking another swig.

"Seriously? You're hogging it for no reason," Massie retorted. "Don't you have a game tomorrow, Mr. Star Goalie?"

"Yeah, so?" Derrick shrugged. "I'll be ready for it. Just answer the question or I give up your turn to Cammie."

Cam scoffed. "Stop calling me that!"

"No," Derrick grinned. "I will call you that until the day I die." He turned his attention back to Massie, his glassy eyes focusing directly on hers. "What's it gonna be, Block?"

Massie bit down on her lower lip, avoiding Claire's inquisitive glance. All her friend had been doing was sending her weird looks. Was she not allowed to be friendly with these boys or something? Was that not allowed?

"Uh," Massie began, "I guess the most embarrassing thing I've done was…" She wracked her brain, trying to remember something embarrassing but not _too _embarrassing. "Oh! I stalked Chris Abeley two years ago because I had a really big crush on him."

Derrick frowned. "Define 'stalking'."

"_Define stalking_?" Massie echoed. "If you don't know what that means, Derrick, I can't believe you've made it this far in life."

He rolled his eyes. "You are _so_ funny, you know that?" he questioned dully. "I want to know what stalking means in Girl World, okay?"

"Well, since you're _so_ curious, I basically became friends with Layne and brought her everywhere with me so he would think I was really nice," Massie explained, shooting an angry look at Josh when he tried to mask his laughter as a coughing fit. "And then I taught her how to ride a horse because Chris loved his horse and I had one and… ugh, it was awful."

"You stole his hat, too," Claire piped in.

"Right. I did that," Massie nodded in agreement. "I was an awful person."

Kemp snorted, leaning forward. "Did he love you oh so much after that?" he teased, his voice high in falsetto.

"You would think he did, but no," Massie mock-pouted. "He had a girlfriend all along."

"Sounds awful," Derrick replied, handing over the bottle. "You deserve this. Well played."

"You make it sound like we're playing a sport." She took a quick shot, glancing quickly at the person next to her. Cam. What would she ask him? She wasn't good at this game.

"That's because we are," Plovert replied, as if she were the stupidest person on the planet. "Drinking is quite the sport."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Massie mumbled. She didn't realize they had finished off this entire bottle until she noticed the lack of weight in her hands. "We can't play anymore."

"We can, Mass," Josh said easily. "Just because you're bad at thinking of questions doesn't mean we can't-"

"No, seriously. There's nothing left." She pushed the evidence into the middle of their circle. "Derrick hogged it all so now there's none for the rest of us."

The blonde lifted his hands in surrender. "I did no such thing. Block, you've gotta stop blaming me for your crimes."

She made a face. "I didn't. You did. Man up and accept it."

He looked as if he were about to retort, but Cam placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll just go get another one, guys. It's not a big deal. Wanna come with me?"

Massie shrugged, pushing herself off the floor. Maybe she'd have a choice in what they were drinking this time around. Something fun. Fruity. That didn't taste like she was dying every time it slipped down her throat.

"Hurry up," Kemp called as they left the room. "I can feel myself remembering everything about this night and that is not what I want!"

Cam rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, princess!"

"Is he always like that?" Massie questioned, forcing herself through the massive groups of people. She accidentally bumped into a couple making out and the boy glared at her when the girl rushed off, a giggling mess. "Uh, sorry."

"Normally, yeah," Cam responded, grabbing her wrist to pull her to his side. "He's a pretty big party kid, if you haven't noticed." He didn't drop his hand, which she was grateful for considering every step he took forward, she somehow went backwards. There were _so many _people here.

"Can we get something that isn't vodka this time?" she asked, getting on her tip toes to see over his shoulder when they stopped. "It's annoying to drink." She stumbled slightly, trying to regain her balance, but Cam caught her just before she was about to land right on top of him. "Sorry," she giggled breathlessly.

"It's no problem," he murmured back, spinning around to make sure she was upright. "Maybe you shouldn't drink anymore…"

Massie shook her head furiously. "No, I'm fine, really. It's my shoes." She wiggled her foot.

"Why are you wearing them then?"

"They make my outfit cute."

"You don't need them to make your outfit cute," Cam responded slowly, his eyes boring into hers. They were really pretty, what with their two different colors. He wasn't any less of a freak than she was, considering her eyes made her look like a cat…

"I don't?" she asked, suddenly very aware of his hand on her wrist. Still. Okay. "But then-"

"No," he cut her off. Normally that would have bothered her, but she was too preoccupied with the way his dark hair curled around his ear and the small freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. How had she not noticed these things before? They gave him character. "You're already cute."

Her cheeks felt weird now, like they were there but they weren't. If someone hit them, she probably wouldn't sense it. "I am?" she questioned, heart pounding in her chest. Her legs were like jelly.

"Yeah," he replied, tucking the lock of hair that got into her eyes behind her ear. When did that happen? "Would you get really mad at me if I kissed you right now?"

"What?" she questioned, unable to break eye contact. His eyes were twinkling now with some sort of glint that seemed almost intoxicating. She couldn't look away.

His fingers were still by her ear, his thumb rubbing against her skin in a way that made jolts of electricity (or her drunken hormones) pulse throughout her entire body. "I asked if I could kiss you right now."

"Oh, I, um," she stuttered. His face was so close to hers now; she could count the number of freckles on his nose. (Nine.) "I…" She swallowed. His lips looked so soft, so- so kissable. And she really hadn't kissed anyone in a while… "Yeah," she breathed, "you can."

* * *

><p>Claire felt more than relieved when Cam had left. She was always feeling uncomfortable when he was around. Not that she liked him still or anything, but she didn't know how to act when he was <em>right there<em>. She normally kept to herself, barely even talking out loud unless directly addressed. He must hate her for what she did to him, but she was finally in a good place.

Without Massie, though, she was hardly noticed.

"At least she talked to you, dude," Plovert said encouragingly.

Derrick shrugged. "Sure, I guess," he mumbled. "She was drunk though."

Kemp slapped his shoulder. "This is still progress, man. She didn't run screaming or anything. She didn't point out your every flaw and beat you down either. She's a cool drunk."

"She's a cool person in general," Josh rebutted. "You just have to be nice to her."

"I am!" Derrick insisted. "At least-"

"No," Josh cut him off, shaking his head slightly. "You're not as nice as you make yourself out to be. You're nice to all of her friends. Not her."

"I-"

Claire, who had been looking through Twitter to see what everyone else was up to, looked up. What was going _on_? Were they talking about Massie? She hated being out of the loop, but what she hated more than that was witnessing someone, anyone, talk about her friend.

"Um," she said loudly. "What are you talking about?"

Derrick's eyes widened. "Shit. I didn't know you were still here."

_Oh, thanks_, Claire thought sarcastically. "Well, I am, and I heard a good part of that so you might as well just tell me what's up."

"He doesn't have to tell you anything," Kemp snapped. "It's none of your concern."

"It isn't?" Claire retorted, placing her phone on her thigh. "I'm pretty sure you were talking about Massie and she's my friend, so…"

Kemp opened his mouth to bite back, but Derrick shook his head quickly. "Dude, it's fine. We can tell her. Just… just don't tell Massie, alright?"

Claire only raised her eyebrows.

"Please," Derrick begged. "I'm, like, the biggest asshole in the country, I know that, but you can't tell her."

"Depends on what it's about," she finally reasoned. "So spill."

"Okay." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know I suck, and I'm aware of this. Believe me, I am. I'm a dick. I can admit that. I think everyone here can."

"Mhm…"

Josh frowned at his girlfriend as if to tell her to be nice. She ignored him.

"I still like Massie."

Claire blinked. Repeatedly. He… _what_? How… was that even possible? That didn't make any sense! He dumped her. _He _dumped _her_. How could he still like her if _he_ ended it?

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah," Derrick muttered, playing with the hole in his jeans. "I… was stupid before. I guess I didn't realize what was going on and my only reaction was to end it. I shouldn't have done that."

"Well, _yeah_," Claire replied harshly. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Derrick! If you were happy and she was happy, why stop it? You're a retard."

"Don't say that," Josh reprimanded. "That's not nice. Just call him stupid or something. You're making fun of people with mental problems and I don't like that."

"Sorry," the blonde replied, keeping her eyes on Derrick. "So what is your plan? Ignore her until you don't feel a thing? Hope she comes running back? Because you know that won't work."

"I know," he groaned, staring up at the ceiling. "I fucked up and I don't know how to fix it."

Claire breathed deeply through her nose, twirling her hair with her index finger. This had to be the most eventful thing that had happened to her all night. "You might not be able to," she replied. "You might have actually ruined it for good."

The look on his face made Claire wish she had never decided to remain sober.

* * *

><p>It happened so fast. Before Alicia knew it, Danny's hands were places no boy had ever touched and she reacted in such an animalistic way she wasn't even sure she was in control of her own body.<p>

She had never felt this good before. She liked what he was doing and didn't even feel bad when she begged for him to keep going, don't stop, please please please. She knew- and felt- how much he enjoyed this too, so she wasn't embarrassed.

She probably should have been more aware of her surroundings and more self-conscious of the fact that he was peeling her bathing suit off on some random bed in the house, but she only felt her raging hormones and her absolute _want_.

Alicia wanted this. She wanted him to do what he was about to. Her mind was hazy and it was hard to think properly, but this is what she desired. Him. All of him. All of him everywhere.

Her legs were pushed open.

She felt his lips kiss a pathway down her body, stopping to suck at the valley between her breasts before she felt him, all of him, inside of her.

* * *

><p>The music was really loud. It was dark. Cam was really good at kissing.<p>

Massie pulled his face closer to hers, felt his hands tug her shirt out of her skirt, and slip underneath it, resting on her waist. They were warm, his hands were, and pretty big. The way he was touching her made her heart quicken even more than it already had- and the thing he did with his tongue was pretty effing spectacular.

She felt his fingers slide up from their previous position, stopping just underneath her bandeau bathing suit top. Why she had worn it, she had no idea- she didn't even want to go swimming all the much. It would ruin her hair and she wasn't in the mood to have to shower in order to get the chlorine out.

He didn't do anything else from there and Massie was so frustrated she almost mewled in protest, but she was too preoccupied. Her own fingers slipped into his hair, pulling lightly. He grinned against her mouth, deepening the kiss even more (was it possible to do that? Holy shit, yes, it was).

* * *

><p>"Drink this."<p>

"No."

"Dylan, it's water. Drink it."

"Why do you want to help me?"

"I already told you: a pretty girl should never-"

"I'm not pretty, though!"

"Dylan, listen to me," the boy said sternly. The redhead turned her head, meeting his hard gaze. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but you _are_. Don't even try to argue with me. You're one of the prettiest girls at this party and it's starting to annoy me that you don't think so. Drink this water and if you even utter the word no, I'm going to force it down your throat."

With an angry huff, Dylan took the cup he was offering.

* * *

><p>Claire decided it was probably best to get out of here before things got even more uncomfortable than they already were. She had enough of these heart-to-hearts with the boys. Josh was ignoring her to talk to Derrick about his confusing feelings, so she was stuck waiting until Massie and Cam came back from getting them something to drink. It was taking them quite a while, something Kemp had muttered angrily about, but she figured it was only because they couldn't just <em>take<em> a bottle off the table without getting some weird looks. That had to be the equivalent of stealing, right?

She had no idea what the protocol for parties was, but she just knew she wanted to _get out_ before something else-

Her vibrating phone interrupted her thought process and she looked down, confused (yet again) to see Skye Hamilton contacting her. It was a picture message. What was so important that she had to get a _picture_ of?

She hadn't meant to say "oh my god" as loudly as she did. It honestly just slipped out. She didn't mean to get the others' attention, either, but she had it and the result was terrifying to say the least.

"_WHAT THE FUCK_?"

Claire just stared, her jaw slightly open.

**From: Skye Hamilton  
><strong>figured you should see this!

Enclosed was a picture of Cam and Massie, not getting more alcohol, but making out instead.

Claire exited out of it quickly, and at the speed of light sent her own message to Kristen, wherever she had ended up. They had to get out of here. _Now_.

* * *

><p><strong>dharrington<br>**you have got tobe fucking kidfing me right nopw

**skydancer  
><strong>these parties just get better and better, I am telling you

**marvilous  
><strong>I feel awfulk

**leeshriv  
><strong>ohmygod

**massieeblockk  
><strong>…oh

**kgreg**  
>wasn't in the mood to clean up vomit but ok<p>

**thehurley  
><strong>not drunk enough for this not drunk enough for this

**cplov  
><strong>and I am once again the daddy of the group

**clairebear  
><strong>ew.

**fisherprice  
><strong>whatever it's your own fault

**hoshjotz**  
>wait where the hell did my friends go<p> 


	15. fourteen

i think the chapters will be this length from now on. it's more fun to shove a lot of things in a chapter than just make them tiny.

since today is senior cut day, i figured i'd get this up before i disappeared for the day c: hope you enjoy! and feel free to yell at me again!

* * *

><p><strong>Late Fridayearly Saturday**

Even though Derrick refused to be within five feet of Cam and Cam was currently glaring daggers at Derrick for punching him repeatedly in the face, Kemp and Plovert managed to calm them down enough to focus all of their attention on Josh.

No one really knew what happened with him, just that he hadn't been with them when Derrick had gone batshit crazy on Cam after Claire fled from the room. They were too preoccupied with keeping the two feuding boys at bay- which failed pretty drastically given the conditions both of them were in- that they hadn't even noticed their other friend was missing.

Plovert blamed himself, really, because he was the one who normally kept them all together, even if he was just as shitfaced as the rest of them. He hadn't meant to take on the 'daddy' role in their group, it had just happened. They were like a family, he noticed a few months ago, when things had gotten particularly out of hand.

It was the very beginning of summer and the start of their new freedom: from school and girls. They had tagged along with Harris to a party they weren't supposed to be at and that was really the first time they had gotten smashed. Within minutes, Plovert was busy making sure Derrick and Kemp, the troublemaking twins as he liked to call them, were kept in eyesight just in case they did something stupid. Cam was the broody older sister (but don't tell him Plovert called him a girl) and Josh was the hyper younger brother you couldn't help but laugh with constantly. That put Plovert in parent mode.

He had never expected Cam to turn into the violent, moody older sister or for Kemp to take on the second parental role, but shit happens and he was now busy trying to figure out what got Josh in this funk.

Rubbing his temples as the beginnings of a massive headache hit him, Plovert took one good look at Josh. It was easy to tell he was shaken up and uncomfortable, but they couldn't help him if he wasn't going to open his mouth. "Josh, buddy, just tell us what happened."

Josh shook his head, resting his chin on his knees, which were brought to his chest. "I'm fine."

"You're really not," Kemp prodded, sitting down on his other side. "You can tell us. We won't judge you."

Cam and Derrick remained silent, almost as if they were in timeout. The latter was all the way across the room on the other couch, sitting cross-legged and moping. Cam was at the table, angrily stuffing his face with chips.

"No, I'm good, just…" Josh trailed off, wrinkling his nose. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and his hat was still backwards. "I'm still kind of antsy about the whole Massie and Cam thing."

"Yeah!" Derrick snapped, tossing a murderous look in Cam's direction. "_Me too_."

"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you I wouldn't have fucking done it if you had fucking _told_ me you still liked her?" Cam retorted, rolling his eyes.

"I shouldn't have had to tell you! It's like fucking _Guy Code_, man," Derrick replied, his voice and body on edge. "You don't just go around kissing your friend's ex-girlfriend!"

"That's not in the code, asshole," shot back Cam.

"It is in mine!" Derrick insisted. "Fuck, I can't believe I actually thought you were my _best _friend."

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Cam spat. "I _am_ your best friend! So what? I fucked up once. Goddammit, you're no fucking angel."

Derrick's hands formed fists. "Yeah, true, but I would never in a million years go after Claire!"

"Of course you wouldn't," Cam returned, "she's not your type!"

"She wasn't yours either!"

"I learned that, alright? No need to shove it in my face!"

"You. Made out. With my. Ex-girlfriend."

"Emphasis on the _ex_!"

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

"It takes one to know one!"

"Yeah, well-"

Plovert rubbed a tired hand across his face, sighing deeply. "You have got to be kidding me," he muttered, standing. "Kemp, stay with Josh. I'll deal with Dumb and Dumber over there."

He crossed the room in two strides with this nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Josh was never a good liar- never to them, at least. He had to be hiding something…but what would he hide from his friends?

* * *

><p><strong>Friday night 12:15AM<strong>

All the drinks he had must have hit him right then and there because after what felt like one blink, Josh realized he was all alone. His friends were gone, but he was pretty sure they had been there not even two seconds ago. Something had happened, he remembered, with Massie and Cam, who never came back from getting more liquor. Josh was thankful for that because he didn't think he could drink anymore. He was already having trouble remembering where he was.

He picked up his phone, scanning the various text messages he had gotten but hadn't answered.

**Mom**: tell me when you get to chris' ok? love you xo

**Kristen**: wanna tell me what happened or

**Sammi**: if derrick's too drunk, can you call me to pick him up?

**Harris**: plovert didn't answer- how's it going?

He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. When did his friends' older siblings start contacting him when they went to parties? Didn't they make sure to talk to Plovert beforehand? That kid was like their protector or something; he always knew where they were and what they were doing and if they were okay. He had all of their parents wrapped around his finger. If one of them said they were going to be with Chris Plovert, they were allowed to go wherever they pleased. It was like Plovert was a saint or something, but he was actually just as rebellious as the rest of them. He just hid it a lot better.

Something huge must have happened or else Plovert would have been able to get ahold of. That must have been why Sammi and Harris were talking to him. Maybe they were worried, although Harris didn't seem like the type to coddle his younger brother.

Shaking his head, Josh tried to send back as many easy-to-read responses as possible, mainly focusing on his mother's first, since she had no idea where he was or what he was doing. He told her he would, that they would probably be there soon and that he loved her just as much as she loved him. Kristen, Sammi, and Harris got whatever his fingers could type without so much as him checking to make sure he spelled things right.

**To**:** Kristen**  
>uh nopt relly sure I'll tell yuo tomorrow<p>

**To**:** Sammi**  
>I thnk hesd ok but idk where everyne went<p>

**To**:** Harris**  
>idk<p>

With that done, he shoved his phone in his pocket and pushed himself off the floor, prepared to find out where his friends went. Someone must have seen them. They wouldn't have left without him; Plovert was too much like their father to do such a thing, so they had to be around here somewhere.

He searched high and low for what felt like an hour until he finally saw someone remotely familiar. He was about to open his mouth to speak when his phone vibrated again. Maybe it was Plovert. Josh really wanted to get going. He was tired.

**Kristen**: please do because I don't know what's going on and Claire's pissed as hell and Massie's too drunk to remember

Massie drunk? Josh remembered hanging out with her and the game they played and that she said she stalked Chris Abeley. Then she left. He missed her. She should come back. She was a lot of fun and he liked that they were sort of friends now.

He didn't really have anything to say to Kristen, so he ignored her and went on to his other messages.

**Sammi**: jooooosh it's not good to be separated from your friends! Do you want me to come get you?

No, no, no. He had to stay here. Find his friends. Go to Plovert's. Eat food. Sleep. He told Sammi just that.

**Harris**: lmao dude how drunk are you

_A lot_, he typed back, _tired though, must find friends_.

Why was he talking to Harris Fisher? Or better yet, why was Harris Fisher talking to him? Didn't he have, like, girls to fuck and college parties to go to? Josh was fifteen. He couldn't be _that_ exciting.

Shaking his head, which was starting to feel very heavy, he looked up again, trying to remember what he was doing in this room… oh, right! He had noticed someone very familiar and was hoping they knew where his friends were. Or knew where someone who knew where his friends were was at.

"Ridder!" he called and the lacrosse-playing sophomore turned his head.

"Hey, Hotz," he responded easily. "What's up? You look plastered, my friend."

Josh shrugged. "Have you seen Kemp? Or Plovert? Or Cam? Or any of my friends, really? I- we got separated."

"That's weird," James replied. "I never thought I'd see the day where you guys weren't together, but no. I haven't seen them."

The forward closed his eye briefly, making a face. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's just that you guys are so gay for each other," James answered nonchalantly.

"No we're not," Josh said slowly. "We're just friends and stuff-"

"Now would be the perfect time," James' friend, Owen Crawford, snickered. "He's hardly in the state of mind to react normally, so…"

Josh frowned, glancing quickly at him. The strawberry blonde only smiled widely, looking extremely friendly. Josh honestly had no idea what was going on. He just wanted to find his friends and leave.

"Hey, Keith!" James called, cupping his hands around his mouth. "I've got a proposition for ya!"

What was Keith doing in the mix now? Josh didn't like Keith Upton. He was just as nasty as his friends, even nastier than them really, because he thought he was privileged or something like that. Sure, everyone in Westchester thought their shit didn't stink, but there was something about Keith that was worse than that. He had made girls like Massie and Alicia look like they cared for other people, that's how conceited he was.

Keith waltzed over, taking his sweet time, until he was right next to James. He was about two inches taller than the latter with a head full of hair so black it almost looked blue. There were rumors going around that he got it professionally dyed, but Josh didn't care.

He just wanted to find his friends. Maybe Keith knew where they were, but why would James call it a 'proposition'?

"Yeah?" His voice was also much deeper than James' ever would. Derrick had told Josh that Keith had gone into puberty at, like, ten and was ahead of almost everyone…until he stopped and Kemp's voice got even deeper than his.

"Remember that thing I was telling you about?" James asked seriously, clasping his hands in front of him. "That really _big _thing? Our…hunch?"

Keith only nodded, side-glancing at Josh.

What in the world was going on?

"Well, we'll double the price," James decided, sharing a long look with Owen, "if you do it right now."

"_Right now_?" Keith repeated, frowning. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Owen nodded. "You know what they say: drunk minds speak sober thoughts or some shit like that."

"You sound like such a girl right now," James retorted, rolling his eyes.

"I have a sister, alright? Cool it. She's got all of these weird sayings," Owen snapped, self-consciously scratching at the back of his neck.

"Oh, like _beauty is in the eye of the beholder_ and all of that crap?" James retorted.

"As much as I love it when you two banter," Keith started, "I'd like to be paid upfront if I'm going to embarrass myself at this party."

James and Owen immediately shut up, both digging into their pockets for their wallets. Two fifties were placed in Keith's outstretched hand and he quickly put it away before taking a deep breath. "And you're sure about this?"

"Positive."

"We've observed for a while, man."

"And if anyone asks-"

"We'll blame it on him," James interrupted. "They'll believe us over him. Don't worry. Just do."

_Don't worry, just do_? Josh was really confused now. All he wanted was to find his friends and sleep off all of this alcohol. For the first time, he actually hated having consumed all of this and wanted it out, out, out. If they weren't going to tell him where Derrick and co. went then he was just going to go-

_What the fuck_, Keith Upton was gripping his face and pulling him closer before he slammed his lips against Josh's. _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck_- Josh had a girlfriend! Her name was Claire and she was very nice, kind of annoying at times, but he liked her enough to look past it-

And _shit fucking hell holy sweet Jesus_ why was he kissing back?

And why was he _liking_ it?

* * *

><p>"Claire, shut your mouth for once," Kristen snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was bad enough that she smelled like vomit (thanks to Dylan's previous upchucking) and that Alicia and Massie were too drunk to handle, but she didn't need Claire's incessant ranting filling her brain.<p>

"Shut my…?" The blonde shot Kristen a look, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Kristen, do you not understand what happened?"

"No," the other girl snapped. "I _don't_ because no one's told me anything!" She pulled Alicia's wrist, tugging her out of the street and back on to the sidewalk. "I literally left the room I was in to narrowly avoid being thrown up on and I have not been told _why_ anything has happened!"

Claire grumbled under her breath, crossing her arms. "I don't know about Alicia or Dylan, but Massie hooked up with Cam."

Kristen blinked, staring at the backs of her friends. "Massie did what?"

"She hooked up with Cam," Claire responded bitterly, picking at her nails. "They went off to get more alcohol or something and they never came back. Skye Hamilton texted me a picture of it."

"Why is Skye Hamilton talking to you?" inquired Kristen, unable to wrap her head around _that_ rather than why Massie and Cam locked lips.

Claire shrugged. "I dunno. This was the first time she contacted me, so your guess is as good as mine." The way she quickly looked away, staring at the houses they walked by made Kristen think there was something else she wasn't telling her, but she was too busy making sure (yet again) that Alicia didn't get hit by oncoming traffic.

Dylan stopped walking suddenly, her face paler than usual. Her eyes were glassy and red, and thanks to Massie's perfume she smelled not of vomit but Chanel. "Kristen-"

"If you're going to throw up, please make it to that bush," the blonde instructed, pointing to the plant that surrounded the street sign for the corner of Carpenter and Spencer.

The redhead rushed over, the telltale signs of vomiting piercing the silent night sky. Massie and Alicia had turned the corner already, so Kristen ordered Claire to get them back, and whipped her phone out of her pocket.

Scrolling through her contacts, she hesitated on Josh's name, wondering if he was okay, but continued on until Ryan Marvil's was highlighted instead.

The older Marvil twin picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, Ryan? Yeah, it's Kristen, we're on the corner of Carpenter and Spencer… you know, where the bush is? Do you think you could come get Dylan? She's not in the… best shape."

* * *

><p>Josh didn't know who pulled away, but his wide eyes hit the floor in embarrassment before anything else could happen. He heard the rambunctious laughter of Owen and James and Keith muttering, "I didn't know he would kiss back!"<p>

His cheeks were burning and he felt slightly lightheaded. Coughing, he was sure he should have felt guilty or something because, well, he had Claire and she was awesome, but…he didn't. Instead, he was confused. He shouldn't have liked that, right? He was…he was a boy. Boys didn't _like _boys like that… He- he liked girls. He liked _Claire_!

Well… oh, who was he kidding? He didn't really like Claire. She was a nice girl, really, but he didn't like her the way a boyfriend should. It just had felt like the right thing to do when he saw her over the summer and he was more confused than he was now and she was _right there_…

What was going on? What was wrong with him? There had to be something wrong with him!

"I can't believe he actually _kissed_ you, man," Owen chortled, slapping his thigh. "I thought he wouldn't, like, pull away or something. Shit, was that, like, the best kiss of your life, Hotz?"

"Um," he said, "I've had better."

"Right," James piped in, unconvinced. "I'm sure."

"No, seriously. I've kissed girls better than-"

"But you don't really _like_ girls, do you, Joshua?"

"_What_?" Josh croaked, swallowing hard. "I…I like girls. What are you saying?"

James merely grinned, shaking his head. Owen continued to cackle like a lunatic. Keith ran a hand through his hair, complaining that he deserved more money that what he got. _Kissing Josh Hotz_, he said, _was not worth a hundred dollars_.

Josh's entire body tingled; he couldn't look Keith in the eye, so he did the next best thing: he shoved past the three of them, his heart pounding. He bit down on his lip so hard he started to taste the bitter tang of blood and he didn't stop moving until he was far enough from that very room as possible.

He found himself in the kitchen this time, surrounded by people who had no idea what he had just done and how he felt about it. He took the time to throw himself into a seat and run a shaky hand across his face, taking deep, calming breaths to calm his racing heart. Nothing worked, however- he was stuck in this anxious, jittery state, his mind full of thoughts and scenarios he did not want to think about.

He had just fucking kissed Keith Upton. James Ridder and Owen Crawford were witnesses. They had seen it. They would tell everyone. They thought he was _gay_. He wasn't, really, he was (sort of, not really) positive! He cared greatly about how people used their terminology and would scold anyone no matter who they were for using words in the wrong way, but that didn't mean he was one!

But that didn't explain why he liked the way Keith's lips felt against his own. They weren't soft like a girl's- like Claire's or Alicia's- but they were rough and tough, like Josh imagined his own felt like. He sort of liked that about them, that they weren't made like pillows or soft cushions. Their toughness was invigorating-

_No_, he thought forcefully. _Stop thinking about it. Just…find your friends. Get out of here. Hopefully no one will remember this. Hopefully _you_ won't_.

"Hey," he said when he finally found his voice again, "have you seen Derrick Harrington, Cam Fisher, Kemp Hurley, or Chris Plovert?"

The older boy- he looked like he was on the soccer team, but Josh couldn't tell- shook his head. "Sorry, Hotz, haven't seen them since you five got here."

"Oh. Thanks, anyway." Defeated, Josh shoved his hand in his pocket, debating calling Sammi to see if she would still be up to give him a ride when another voice cut through the air.

"Did you say Derrick Harrington and Cam Fisher?"

Josh whirled around. Skye Hamilton was standing with her army of friends, hands on her hips. She looked absolutely livid, but her expression softened when she saw Josh's deer-in-the-headlights look. "Yeah," he replied. "My friends."

"I saw them," her friend with the braid announced, but that was it. No where. No when. Real helpful she was.

"Okay."

"They seemed to be in some sort of fight," Skye went on, nudging her friend for her stupidity. "Last I saw them they were in the front yard and Cam had a black eye."

_Cam had a black eye_? Josh groaned, trying to remember why Derrick would ever think of hitting Cam in the face. They were best friends. There wasn't much that got the blonde riled up, especially if it was about Cam. They had some weird, unnatural friendship. Bromance, really. He couldn't think of any situation, his mind was too busy going back to the kiss with Keith.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Thank you, Skye," Josh murmured, exiting the kitchen. Maybe they were still in the front yard…

He pushed the door open, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the shaggy hair of Derrick and Plovert's usual coat. Thank _God_. Now Josh could go home.

With a closer look, however, he saw that Kemp was holding Derrick back, who was practically kicking and clawing at his friend in order to be let free. Plovert was standing in front of Cam, lecturing him about something or other. They didn't notice Josh had appeared.

"-do _not_ start fighting over this right now," Plovert was saying, glaring down at Cam's form sitting on the floor. "You two are both drunk out of your minds. There is no point in starting this now. Wait until you're both sober and then duke it out."

"He started it!" Cam protested. "He hit me first!"

"You deserved it!" Derrick shot back. Kemp tightened his hold on his body.

Plovert spun around. "I don't care _who_ started it. Cleopatra could've thrown the first punch and I could care less. We are going to go to my house as _civil people_ and we are going to go to sleep. If you so much as even _look_ at each other, I'm going to make sure the two of you never see daylight again, am I understood?"

"Yes," Derrick muttered.

"Whatever." Cam got off the floor, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stalked off in the direction of Plovert's house.

"Don't go after him," Kemp advised to Derrick. "I'm going to let go of you. Don't make me regret this decision."

"But-"

"I know you're upset," Plovert said, his voice harsher than intended, "but now is not the time. You're both angry and drunk and you'll do things you'll regret- not that many of those things haven't happened tonight in the first place."

Derrick nodded and would've fallen to the ground if Kemp hadn't straightened him out. He was the first to notice Josh's presence, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. "Josh!"

"Hi," the other boy greeted awkwardly.

"Where have you been?" Plovert demanded.

"I was, uh, inside," Josh answered, frowning. "Skye told me you were out here…"

"She's so fucking annoying," Derrick muttered. "Hate her so much." He stomped off without waiting for the others.

Kemp sighed, pulling at his unruly curls. "I'll follow him, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," he quickly told Plovert, rushing off with a call of the blonde's name. Derrick's strides didn't halt.

"Did I miss something?" asked Josh, glancing up at Plovert's face. He looked older than usual, as if he were developing wrinkles already at the tender age of fifteen. He appeared tired too, with his eyes drooping. He was most certainly sober.

A dry chuckle escaped his friend's lips. "You've missed quite a lot, buddy. Come on, I'll tell you about it on the way to my house."

Josh followed like an obedient puppy, pulling his phone out to send a quick text to Kristen.

**To: Kristen**  
>I think whatever happened was huge<p>

At least he could type normally now…but that didn't help the odd, hollow feeling that was settling in his stomach.

Kristen responded in about half a second: _you have no idea_.

* * *

><p>Dylan's sisters had picked the redhead up after ten minutes of waiting. Carson's house, unfortunately, was the farthest away from the Marvil estate, meaning Dylan had to go through so much gagging, crying, and utter sickness before she was carefully escorted home. Ryan thanked Kristen for calling them and was gone in a flash, Jamie rubbing Dylan's back supportively.<p>

When the car was out of sight, Kristen turned to face her remaining friends: sober and angry Claire, drunk and giggly Massie, and intoxicated beyond belief Alicia, who had no idea what the hell was going on.

"Okay," the blonde began, clapping her hands together once. "Someone want to tell me what happened?"

"I kissed Cam," Massie blurted.

"Yeah," Claire snapped. "I can't believe that happened, Massie. Want to explain how _that_ came along? Or, better yet, want to explain how you're _friends_ with all of them now?"

The brunette wrinkled her nose in annoyance. "Calm down, Kuh-laire, it's no big deal," she replied. "It's not like Cam is your boyfriend so I'm pretty sure you have no right to be this pissed about it, and I'm _allowed_ to have friends other than you guys, you know."

"But it's them! The soccer boys! You hated them before!"

"So?" Massie retorted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I'm only really friends with Josh and Cam because they spent five hours at my house last Sunday. Does it really matter that much to you?"

"You're friends with Josh and Cam?" Alicia asked. She sounded like she was on an entirely different planet. "And you kissed Cam?" She paused, staring directly at Massie's face. "Good for you. Sounds fun."

Claire's jaw dropped. "Alicia, you're actually _okay_ with the fact that Massie's friends with _Josh_?"

"Well, I dealt with the fact that you were dating him, did I not?" Alicia returned easily. "Besides, I don't care if Massie's friends with him. It's not like she was rubbing that friendship in my face the way you were with your relationship."

"You have _got_ to be kidding."

"Kuh-laire," Alicia started sweetly, spinning in the empty street, "I don't like you, so of course I'm going to hate everything you do. I think you're annoying and obnoxious and I hate the fact that you think you're better than me because Josh picked you. Newsflash: I don't give two shits about that. Josh is history. You're nothing. It's pretty much a good deal for me."

Kristen sighed again, running her hand through her hair. She had a feeling she'd be doing this a lot on their walk home. She knew the girls would clash- they always did when they drank- but she hadn't expected Alicia to speak her mind the way she did. Two drunk girls she could handle, but put an angry Claire on top of that? It was next to impossible to keep everyone in line.

"Ooh!" Massie clapped her hands. "How did the Danny thing go? Did you get it?"

Alicia beamed. "Yeah."

"Details, please."

"I don't really remember much, but we made out in the pool and he picked _me_ over _Skye Hamilton_," Alicia bragged, eyes sparkling. "Apparently she's wanted to hook up with him since, like, the summer, but he wanted me instead! Isn't that fab?"

"I would pick you over Skye any day," Massie agreed. "She's annoying."

"I wouldn't," Claire muttered.

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Lyons," Alicia snapped.

"Maybe you shouldn't have told your story out loud then."

"Massie asked a question. I answered it. It's pretty simple, Kuh-laire, but I forgot. You don't like to do things the normal way."

Claire gritted her teeth. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm pretty sure you like to steal crushes and when they finally get over it, you're mad that the attention isn't on you anymore."

"That makes no sense whatsoever."

"It doesn't have to," Alicia hissed. "_You_ don't make any sense."

"_Massie_!"

The brunette held up her hands, shaking her head slowly. "I don't want to get in the middle of this."

"That's 'cause you'll pick Alicia's side, isn't it?"

"Of course she would!" Alicia exclaimed. "We've been best friends for longer. I _get_ her more than you do!"

Claire opened her mouth to retort, but Kristen, who had had enough of this childish fighting, put her fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly. The three girls shut up instantly.

"Shut _up_," she ordered. "It's late. I'm tired. I want to go home. Stop fighting. I don't care who's at fault here or what is going on. Claire, take Massie home. I'll drop Alicia off before I head back to my own place. We will talk about tonight tomorrow, Mass. Don't forget about the game. I'll text you."

Massie nodded eagerly. "Okay!" To Alicia, she said: "Call me tomorrow so we can talk."

Alicia agreed before skipping over to Kristen and taking her hand. Together, the two girls walked in the opposite direction of Massie and Claire, all the while discussing whatever came to Alicia's mind.

For fifteen minutes, it was why boys with British accents were so much hotter than American ones.

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday<strong>

Alicia was a wreck.

She woke up earlier that morning with a pounding headache. That wasn't what bothered her though. What really made her skin crawl was the fact that she felt as if she had rolled around in mud and allowed it to dry all over her body overnight. She was _dirty_. She was sore.

That was why she could be found- for hours- in her shower, trying to erase last night's memories from her body.

Scrubbing her body raw, she was frustrated to find that nothing would help her feel any better. She remembered exactly where his hands were, where his mouth had suckled and bit, and how he had touched her in places no boy had ever been before.

She remembered his appreciative look when he finally got her out of her bathing suit (she hadn't resisted, had she?). The way his eyes sparkled and the grin that formed on his lips as he took her in…she shuddered, continuing to rub her loofa up and down her torso, where dark bruises were starting to form. There was even one right above her most private of areas. Applying any sort of pressure to it only made it hurt more.

How had she let this happen?

Alicia had thought she had this all under control. She told everyone she did, so…what happened? She didn't want this. She didn't want to have sex with anyone. All she remembered was the feelings taking over her body and the sudden _urge_, like she would not be complete unless she and Danny took it a step further.

Which was completely idiotic, because this was first time she'd ever hung out with the kid! They had a whole texting thing going on for a week and they talked online all the time, but they never talked face-to-face and the first time they did, she was plastered out of her mind, and he was busy peppering her body with lovebites.

Alicia sighed, leaning her head against the wall of her shower. Maybe Claire was right. Maybe the only reason Danny was ever interested in her was because he wanted to get laid…and Alicia had fallen right into the palm of his hand, proving to the entire world that she was just another easy chick.

_Lovely_.

But it wasn't fair! Danny had done so many things that she had never experienced before. The way his hands glided across her body had set her on fire. She had been yearning to take her bathing suit off, to have him continue to touch her all over like that. She wanted it. She could admit that. It was just…

Alicia was stupid. So, so stupid. She had a made a huge mistake and in Westchester, mistakes were not easy to erase. Her loofa could only do so much.

* * *

><p>Dylan awoke to the blaring of her phone. She could hardly lift her head, blindly groping her belongings in order to find it. Who would even think of texting her at this godawful hour? It had to be, like, six in the morning and it was <em>Saturday<em>! All she wanted to do was go back to sleep and stay buried under her covers until this headache went away- if it ever did.

Squinting one eye, she quickly unlocked her phone and felt her heart start hammering in her chest. It was _twelve in the afternoon_! Twelve. In. The. Afternoon. Why hadn't anyone woke her? Why didn't she wake up automatically at nine like she usually did? What _had_ happened last night?

She could hardly remember a thing, just that the party was more than awful and she wore her bathing suit for nothing. She didn't even remember seeing Alicia and Massie again after they split up initially, but there were snippets of her sisters in her long term memory. Weren't they off at college…?

She had three new messages.

**Kristen**: how are you feeling bby?

_Awful_, Dylan replied although it took her quite some time to write out the word. _Like I got hit by an eighteen wheeler or something._

**Mom**: will be home late again. Send my love to your sisters, will you? Xo

Generic and stupid. Dylan erased it immediately, unable to handle her mother's inability to parent. It was like she only cared about her children when something terrible or exciting happened, like when she went off to Lake Placid for a "Mother's Day tribute" or had to get Dylan's ass back into school. After that, she was gone again, playing the part of the perfect television host every day of her life.

**555-3467**: I'm sorry if I bothered you or anything last night, I just wanted to make sure you didn't get into any sticky situations.

Someone bothered her last night? Someone _talked_ to her last night? Dylan couldn't recall anything from the party. Nada. She remembered Massie saying she was a phone call away and Alicia's scandalous-looking swimsuit, but that was it. She had seen Kemp and Plovert and raced off to avoid them…

How much did she drink? There was no recollection of anything, really. How'd she get home? That was probably a better thing to wonder.

A knock on her door interrupted her thought process- which was really going nowhere, if she were to be honest. The brunette and blonde heads of her sisters popped in, Ryan's face brightening when she noticed the redhead was awake.

"Good," she said softly. "We made you breakfast."

"Actually," Jamie grumbled, "Ryan did. She made me carry it." Placing a plate of buttered toast and water on Dylan's nightstand, she perched herself at the end of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Dylan shrugged. "I've felt better."

"You had a rough night." Ryan shut the blinds, keeping the light out of the room. Dylan's eyes appreciated it. As did her head. "Do you remember anything?"

"Not much," the redhead admitted sheepishly, grasping the glass of water. "Just a few tidbits…getting to the party, really."

Jamie made a face. "You had quite a lot to drink, apparently." She tried to sound gentle, but her voice only came out bitter. "You threw up enough to prove it."

"Oh god," Dylan buried her head in her pillow. "That's embarrassing."

"Yep," Jamie agreed. "You should've eaten beforehand, Dyl. That's, like, the number one rule."

"Or during," Ryan added, smoothing her hair out. "That helps just as much."

"I forgot," Dylan muttered, biting on the inside of her cheek. Her eyes were kept downcast, as if she were upset that she was getting reprimanded, but frankly, she didn't care. Not eating was a good idea. She looked good that night regardless of her still pudgy body. She didn't look any bigger than usual. Her thighs were nice. Her stomach was flat (for the most part). Even her hair had managed to stay! All day she had been proud of her resistance. Food was the enemy.

"Remember next time," Ryan said with a small smile. "It's in your best interests to keep your stomach full. Drinking on empty is a big no-no."

"_Next time_?" Jamie echoed. "There will be no _next time_!"

"Jamie, we're not here to scold her," Ryan pointed out. "We're not her parents."

Jamie rolled her eyes. "We're as good as! Mom is never around to instill rules, so we should! Dylan cannot go around drinking to her heart's content!"

"We're not going to be here all the time," Ryan placed a hand on her sister's shoulder. "There's no way to guarantee she'll even listen to us."

"Maybe if Mom started acting like a parent-"

"We can't ask her to do that," Ryan interrupted. "She's a single mother trying to send us through college and get Dylan there in the next two years."

"Regardless-"

"Guys, if you are going to argue over Mom, can you at least go in a different room?" Dylan closed her eyes, breathing in as her head started to pound. "I feel terrible and I don't really want to be around you two if you're going to be at each other's throats."

Ryan looked rather guilty, but Jamie stared stoically at the wall. "Sorry," the former apologized, grabbing her sister's hand. "We'll leave you be. If you need anything, just yell. We'll be downstairs."

Dylan nodded once, pleased when the door clicked quietly behind them. She wanted some peace, some time to herself before she had to get ready for the day- if she was even doing anything. Surely the Pretty Committee wanted to get together after their fun night and discuss what happened, but she wasn't in the mood to talk about her adventures throwing up. They must've had more exciting things to talk about.

Besides, she needed to figure out who this number was and why they were texting her.

**To: 555-3467  
><strong>uh haha I don't really remember you bothering me but thanks anyway  
>ps- who is this?<p>

**555-3467**: that was going to be my next question. I'm landon

* * *

><p>"Yes, Kris," Massie said into her phone, "I'll be at your house in, like, ten minutes, just let me finish getting ready."<p>

"It takes you an hour to get ready, Mass," Kristen groaned on the other line. "The game starts in twenty!"

"It does _not_," the brunette insisted with an eye roll. "You're being dramatic."

"Is your hair done?"

"Yes."

"And your make up?"

"Mhm."

"So what is that you have to do?"

Massie sighed, surveying the mess of clothes that seemed to have exploded out of her closet. "Pick out something decent," she answered finally, picking up a pair of dark denim skinny jeans.

"You're not dressed yet?"

"No, I'm literally just in my underwear."

"You're not dressed but your hair and makeup are done?"

"Yeah," Massie replied, glancing out her closed window. "Do you know what it's like outside?"

There was shuffling on the other end. "Uh…it's the middle of September," Kristen answered, mouth full with something. Massie wrinkled her nose. "So warm but chilly, you know? You won't need a jacket if you wear something that will keep you from getting too cold."

"Right," Massie agreed. "I'll text you when I'm on my way to get you, kay? I'll be done in five, I swear."

"If you're not, I'll be very upset," Kristen warned.

"Yeah, yeah." Massie hung up her phone, tossing it back on her bed, where it bounced once before it settled on her immaculately smooth duvet.

She had a mission. She needed something to wear that screamed _I had fun at a party last night and you didn't _but didn't rub the message in _too_ much. Her hair and makeup had been kept simple. Even more so, she had to look fabulous without all the effort because this was a _boys_' game and she still had no idea why she was bothering to go (even if Cam and Josh had both asked her nicely).

As time was ticking, she finally settled on the dark jeans from before and her peach intricately hand-knit sweater from Ralph Lauren. It was cute and effortless; she didn't want to seem like she was trying too hard.

With a flip of her hair and an extra coat of gloss, Massie was out of her room faster than usual, slipping her feet in a pair of moccasins she had left at the front door. Her toes were killing her from the shoes she had worn at the party last night and she really wasn't in the mood to hurt them even more after all they had endured.

Isaac was already waiting at the end of the driveway; she sent a wave his way, scurrying across her property as quickly as her legs would allow her. A myriad of thoughts wracked at her mind, her biggest concern being what would happen when she saw Cam. _If_ she saw Cam. She wasn't embarrassed about the fact that they made out- for a quite a while- but she was worried about the aftermath. Would he ignore her? Would he want to do it again?

Massie wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss him again. She had been drunk when it happened the first time and she would be lying if she said she was attracted to him sober. He had been in the perfect position at the wrong time, she guessed. If it had been anyone else at that exact time, she probably would have kissed whoever that was too.

Cam was gorgeous, he really was, but Massie wasn't in the mood to jump into anything, like she had told Alicia. Only time would tell because she was honestly thinking too much into the whole predicament. For all she knew, Cam was going to acknowledge it, laugh at it with her, and leave it be.

Girls were always psychoanalyzing the simplest of things.

She was just about at the Range Rover when she spotted her gardener, leaning over the bed of flowers underneath the windowsill.

"Hi, Mark!" she greeted casually, sending a small smile his way.

He shot up, wide-eyed. "H-hi," he stuttered. "How…how are you?"

"Good," Massie replied, shooting him a confused look. What was up with him? "And yourself?"

"I'm well, thanks." Mark scratched at the back of his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Massie nodded, continuing on her way to the car. Mark was acting weird, but she didn't particularly care to stop and chat to find out why. She was already a minute late and Kristen was going to have a fit if she didn't get to her house in the next ten seconds.

She said her hellos to her driver- her favorite person, like, ever- and quickly sent a text to her sporty friend, telling her she was now officially on her way. "Isaac, take the quickest route to Kris' and then to Briarwood, please."


	16. fifteen

yay more development!

i edited this a while ago but i didn't want to look it over again so i'm sorry if there are mistakes /:

to the anon who told me this was stupid: please spell all the words in your review right before you try to insult me. thank you :)

to everyone else: thank you for dealing with me. much love!

* * *

><p>"You're late," Kristen announced, sliding into the seat beside Massie.<p>

"The game starts in ten minutes," Massie replied with an eye roll. Her hand gripped her phone like a lifeline, waiting for the moment Alicia decided to answer her 'good morning' text and start telling her about her night. She hadn't picked up when Massie called her earlier, so she figured she was either still asleep despite the late hour or nursing a horrendous hangover.

"You're lucky I like you or I would've flipped on you," the blonde teased.

"You wouldn't," Massie retorted. "I'm the only one who wanted to go with you- you need me." She reached over to tug lightly on Kristen's hair, which was down and wavy, held back by a headband. "I like your hair like this."

"Thanks," Kristen beamed. "Why'd you want to go to the game anyway? I know you're friends with Josh and Cam or something, but still- you were never really a big soccer fan."

Massie shrugged, eyes on the trees they zoomed by. "School spirit," she replied, unsure of an answer. She didn't really have one. Cam had told her she _should_ come, so she did. It wasn't like she was interested, really; she didn't even know who the Tomahawks were playing.

"Right," sarcastically responded Kristen, "because peach is such a Briarwood color."

"It's not like you're wearing their colors either," Massie shot back with a smirk, glancing at Kristen's weekend casual outfit. Sneakers, jeans, and a sweater: simple and everything that Briarwood was _not_.

"I'm not going because I have _school spirit_," Kristen mocked. "I'm going because I like the game."

"You're such a loser." Massie scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. It was taking so long to get to their new school and for some reason, she was starting to feel antsy.

"Normally I would say you're going for the boys, but now I think you're going for _Cam_." Kristen eyed the brunette curiously, waiting for her reaction.

Massie didn't have one. She blinked, actually, looking straight at her sporty friend. Going for Cam? She wasn't…was she? Even if they hadn't been all over each other at that party, she _had_ said she would go…and he asked her to. Was she going for him? She wasn't going for herself, after all. She would've forced the rest of the Pretty Committee to come. She would've dressed up a little more, worn shoes to accentuate her legs, not moccasins.

What was her motive? She always had one. She didn't like soccer. She wasn't very school-spirited, not even when she still went to OCD. What…?

Ducking her head, her cheeks flushed. Everything was so confusing. Her mind was a jumbled mess. If only she hadn't decided to let them into her house that Sunday afternoon…

"When you do things like that, you make it extremely easy to make fun of you," pointed out Kristen, smiling cheekily.

Massie swatted at her arm, pleased to hear Kristen's snort of disbelief. "Shut up, Kris."

"You brought it upon yourself, girl," the blonde reminded her, unbuckling her seatbelt.

The car came to a stop, causing Massie to look up quickly, hoping the color had drained from her face, leaving nothing but the artificial pink she had applied earlier that morning. All around them, the lot was a mob. Kids were decked out in all sorts of outfits and even their parents were bustling through the area, making their way to Briarwood's state-of-the-art field. There were absolutely no places to park and it looked like families were trekking it from down the block. All of this to see a _high school_ game. Were they really that important to people?

"Come on, let's get some decent seats, yeah?" Kristen gripped Massie's hand, pulling her out of the car and simultaneously thanking Isaac for the ride.

After being pulled, Massie smoothed her clothes down, checking to make sure there weren't any obvious panty lines or awkward I-look-fat-but-I'm-not situations going on. There were going to be people she knew here and she couldn't look sloppy around them. She couldn't look sloppy around Ca-

_No, do not finish that sentence. _

Something was seriously wrong with her brain. Something was messing with her thought process because she was pretty sure she told Alicia she didn't want to be interested in boys or anything like that. But now look at her, critiquing her own outfit and no one else's because there was a slight chance a boy with multi-colored eyes would see her.

She followed her friend through the chaos, holding each other's hand. The blonde shoved and pushed, hardly caring if she was hitting a small child or an elderly person. The field was even worse than the parking lot, full of screaming children and tension from the two sides. Both stands were filling fast and it was hard to breathe.

Representatives from the student government were taking five dollars from each person as a ticket, saying that they would pile all of it together towards the scholarship fund. Massie didn't mind coughing up the money; it didn't really matter to her in the long run.

All around, parents and teachers were selling snacks, food, and merchandise. Massie had never really been to a game like this before and she was majorly confused by the events. People sold things? Fathers were barbecuing and mothers were dishing water bottles out of coolers. Hoards of little girls, probably sixth graders, had painted their faces or written the number of their favorite player on their cheeks.

High school soccer games seemed to be pretty important around here.

_Brothers forever_, a sign said. A list of the players hung from the fence, immaculate and perfect, as if it had been printed only hours before. Massie's eyes scanned it, catching the names of the people she knew right off the bat.

_34 – Josh Hotz – Forward _

_16 – Derrick Harrington – Goalie _

_9 – Kemp Hurley – Midfield _

_52 – Chris Plovert – Midfield _

_70 – Cam Fisher – Forward _

At least now she finally knew what each boy did on the team…

"There's a vacancy over there," Kristen alerted her, pointing to a place Massie couldn't quite see. Instead, she followed blindly, hoping Kristen was right. She really didn't want to stand.

Thankfully, there was room left for the two of them and they wriggled their way past the other spectators until they could throw themselves down on the unoccupied metal seats of the bleachers. Massie rubbed her arms as a cool breeze fluttered right through her sweater and hoped the game would start soon. She really couldn't handle these people, and she wasn't quite sure she'd be able to when they were all focused on that black and white ball.

* * *

><p>In the locker room, Derrick was having his usual first-game-of-the-year jitters. This consisted of him: a) doubting himself and his abilities, b) questioning why anyone would put him on the varsity team, making him starting goalie, and c) murdering Cam Fisher in the back of his mind.<p>

Okay, so the last part didn't happen _every _first game, but it was hard to focus on the game when he really wanted to strangle his (maybe) best friend for being a fucking tool. It was like the ultimate betrayal when one's closest confidant stepped past their boundaries and sucked face with their ex-girlfriend whom of which they still liked.

This whole situation was making game time quite awkward considering the five boys (the youngest on the team, too) had waltzed in fifteen minutes late to the morning practice, hungover and grumpy. To add to that, Derrick and Cam refused to talk to each other, still upset and angry over last night, both still sporting lovely bruises to prove just how much they disliked each other. Josh was slightly uncomfortable, still, jumping at every voice, sound, and movement. No one knew why, either; he kept his mouth shut all night, even when Plovert pestered him to speak. And speaking of Plovert, both he and Kemp were dead tired, looking as if they had been put through a ring of fire…and they sort of were.

Derrick felt bad. Only a little bit, though, because it was all _Cam's_ fault. Cam and his stupid mouth, which had touched Massie, and his stupid hands, which had touched her too. It was also Skye's fault because she was a bitch and nosy and needed to stop trying to make everyone fucking miserable. If he had one wish, he'd probably use it to package her off to Timbuktu or somewhere just as far. He never wanted to see her again. She was ridiculous.

"I don't know what's up with you and Cam," Derrick's father hissed, glaring angrily at his son. He looked nothing like the star goalie: brown, short hair and blue eyes with a rough face. Derrick had his mother's looks- the blonde hair, the caramel-looking eyes, the dimples. He figured that was the best thing for him. He didn't want to look like James Harrington. He was kind of scary. "But I don't want it out on the field. We're going to have to talk about the fact that you were _late_, but that's for later. I do hope you don't plan on going anywhere after this game."

"_Dad_," Derrick whined, "you can't do that-"

"That's _Coach_ to you, Derrick," James snapped, turning on his heel. "And I can. In fact, I am."

Derrick frowned, slamming his locker shut angrily as his father called for the team huddle. Josh met his eye and offered up a slight smile, but that didn't make anything better.

* * *

><p>Claire woke up fifteen minutes after her doctor's appointment was scheduled.<p>

Heart pounding, she jumped out of bed, tripping over the blankets that tangled around her feet. She hated to be late, especially when it was to something as important as her physical or a checkup with her dentist. These were busy people. It was just rude if she was going to schedule an appointment and then not show up. Hopefully they would just slip her in and she would be able to get it all over with and _still_ make it to the Briarwood soccer game…

She was in the middle of shoving her head through one of Todd's sweatshirts when she heard the sound of wheels slamming down the stairs and her mother's screeching voice. Was it always that high-pitched or did that just happen?

"_This is the last straw, Jay_!"

"It's not my fault she woke up late!" her father retorted loudly. A door slammed.

Claire winced. They were fighting over her…again, which was really awkward since Todd was starting to think it was all her fault for the tension. It didn't help that Claire was positive it _was_ her fault- after all, they didn't start fighting until she screwed up majorly at Lake Placid…

Now she felt terrible for thinking she could sleep after her alarm went off.

"You could've woken her up, you know," Judi snapped, "actually _acted_ like a real parent!"

"I am a _real parent_!" Jay shouted. "It's _you_ who doesn't do anything!"

"I do everything!"

"Oh, do you now? Name the last thing you did for this family besides throwing our funds away on alcohol!"

Judi was silent, but her fuming could still be heard from behind Claire's closed bedroom door. The blonde bit her lip, halting her furious actions, stuck wearing just this old sweatshirt from Todd's tennis days back in Florida.

She tiptoed into the hallway, poking her head around to witness the damage. There was a scuffmark on the wall. The picture frames were now crooked. Why was Claire's being late to the doctor the last straw? What did the _last straw_ mean exactly?

Slow and steady, she descended the stairs, hoping to see some sort of rekindling. It was too quiet…

But when she got downstairs, she saw nothing of the sort. Jay was triumphantly staring at the lost-for-words Judi, who was gripping a suitcase as if it were her last lifeline. Suitcase?

"That's what I thought," Jay murmured, lifting his glass to toast to the air.

Judi was immaculately dressed for twelve forty-five. A string of pearls adorned her neck, combined with a black dress that absolutely screamed _housewife_. Black pumps were on her feet, making her legs look younger and long. Her light eyes took in Claire's disheveled appearance. Something flashed in her gaze and she walked forward, her shoes making the only sound in the room.

Claire watched her waltz off, her hips moving to some sort of tune. She wondered if this was what the Pretty Committee looked like to others when they walked, but she couldn't formulate anything to actually say. Her throat was dry. Her tongue felt like it had been cut out of her mouth.

Why did Judi have a suitcase? Why was she dressed that way? Kendra wasn't planning a girls' weekend…

"Where are you going?" Jay demanded, exiting the kitchen quickly. He looked awful, like he had just gotten back from combat.

"I told you: this is the last straw," Judi said over her shoulder, turning the doorknob. "I'm sick of this family and I'm sick of this town. I wasn't aware everything was going to change when we got here, but it has and I am not a fan."

"Mom-" Claire's voice was hoarse.

Judi shot her a look. "You've changed so much, Clairebear," she said softly. "I miss the girl you used to be. Now I hardly know who you are and what you're doing. You went to a _party_ last night…Claire from Florida would not do that."

"I'm older than I was, Mom," Claire tried to explain, her throat tickling. "I'm not going to stay home all weekend and play Scrabble anymore."

"And Todd… he's always out and about, never has time to spare to hang out with me." Judi continued as if her only daughter never spoke a single word. "And you, Jay, you're always working, and I'm pretty sure you're having an affair with your secretary. I don't see why she has to call here all the time." She shrugged nonchalantly. "This family is no longer what it used to be and I'm sorry, but I have to get away from this mess."

Jay snorted. "You can't say these things to us, _honey_." His last word was spoken with so much venom; Claire wondered exactly how long this riff had been going on. It sounded like they had been at odds with each other for quite some time. "You're not innocent. You became just like those other mothers. You throw my hard-earned money away on clothes and now you're turning to alcohol. Judi, do you not know how _noticeably _drunk you are right now?"

Claire hadn't- but now that her father pointed it out, her mother did look rather out of it. She should have been able to pick this up considering she was around about seventy drunken kids last night. Judi was pink-faced and glassy-eyed. She wasn't holding on to her suitcase for no reason, but to keep herself upright. Oh.

"I-" Judi choked, unable to answer, glancing around quickly. "You have no right to throw my faults in my face!"

"Why not?" Jay asked harshly. "Is that something only you can do?"

"_See_?" Judi complained loudly. "I can't handle this anymore! You're always so…so _sassy_ and no one treats anyone with respect anymore!" She turned to face Claire so quick she almost fell over, catching herself on the wall. "Honey…honey, don't you see what's wrong with this? Everything is so wrong… please agree with me."

Claire's eyes widened and she shared a look with Jay, unable to calm her hammering heart. What was going on? _Who_ was this woman? This…this wasn't her mother; this wasn't the Judi Lyons Claire had called "mom" so many times, the woman who cared for her when she was sick and dried her tears when she was upset. This was someone so different, so foreign… It was so terrifying.

"I…I can't," Claire forced, taking the teeniest of steps back. "There's nothing wrong with us being here."

"That's where you're wrong, Clairebear!" Judi exploded, her emotions doing a complete three-sixty. "New York is all wrong for us! Come with me, come back to Florida, and I can prove it to you! We'll start new… we'll- we'll be a family again!"

Claire shook her head violently, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes. Why was this happening? This wasn't supposed to happen to them! Not to the Lyonses! They were a _good_ family. They were a _great_ family. Nothing could tear them apart…

Judi looked discouraged, but her expression changed drastically. She was angry. Furious, actually. "I see you've picked your father's side," she snarled, stomping back to her suitcase. "I don't need you. I don't need _any_ of you."

Turning on her heel, she pulled her suitcase to the front door, threw it open, and stalked off to the waiting yellow taxi. She ignored Claire's strangled call, sliding into the backseat.

The taxi drove off not even ten seconds later.

* * *

><p>Kristen watched the boys play, running back and forth across the soccer field, sighing sadly. She missed it. She missed it <em>so<em> much it hurt. How she would love to chase after that ball, to throw her leg back and kick…

She was better than half these boys, anyway- like Danny Robbins? Psh. He couldn't defend for his life. How had he even made the varsity team? Plovert was way better. Derrick could probably play his position and he was born to stand in that goal.

That didn't mean the game wasn't intense, though. Someone was always behind Danny, as if they knew he was shit, and they always saved his ass every time. Greyson was an incredibly good team, but Kristen could tell the Tomahawks were prepared. They scored twice as much as Greyson and managed to keep them out of the net for a good fifteen minutes straight.

The blonde was practically on the edge of her seat, watching so intently. When they finally called for a break, she cast a glance over at Massie, who had barely spoken a word, and saw that she was surprisingly biting down on her thumbnail as if she were actually paying attention.

Following the brunette's gaze, Kristen couldn't help but smirk. She was watching Cam's every move, opting to bite now on her lip instead of her finger. She didn't know what exactly happened last night or _why_, but Kristen knew there was something brewing inside of Massie that even she couldn't understand.

Kristen watched for a while. The boys were really odd. They didn't talk to each other, didn't try to set up any sort of play for the remainder of the game. Derrick poured water on his head, shaking out his hair like a dog. Plovert untied and retied his shoes four times. Kemp scrubbed dirt off of his jersey. Josh chugged Gatorade like it was his job. Cam ruffled his hair and sat, contemplatively gazing out into the crowd (and waved when he noticed Kristen and Massie).

Massie shot him a thumbs up; Kristen smiled slightly.

"I've never noticed how interesting this is to watch," the alpha murmured quietly.

Kristen grinned. "That's because you've never tried to watch it. You're always too busy doing something else."

"I like it," she admitted. "Is that bad?"

"No!" Kristen exclaimed, clapping her hands. "It's _great_. I'm so happy you do!"

Massie licked her lips. "I mean, I don't really understand what exactly is going on- they're winning, right?- but it's exciting."

"Yeah, they're winning," Kristen answered. "Barely, though. It's gonna be tough after this break."

"I don't think I can take it," Massie mocked, smirking. "I hope they win."

"Me too."

And they did.

The bleachers the two girls were on exploded in excitement and the boys on the field ended up tackling Kemp to the ground because he scored the winning goal.

Massie held on to Kristen's wrist when everyone started jumping and shouting in hopes of staying together. The latter punched the air repeatedly. The Greyson bleachers were awkwardly silent. already clearing out after their devastating loss.

"That's weird," Massie said, frowning.

"What is?"

"Derrick didn't pull his pants down," the brunette observed.

Kristen sought him out, narrowing her eyes. That's right, he didn't. He was too busy talking to his coach and getting slaps on the back and shoulder for a job well done. It was kind of weird considering he always did that stupid thing with his butt after a good game.

She shrugged. "Maybe he's grown out of it."

Massie blinked. "You think?"

"Maybe." Kristen stood quickly. "Come on! Let's go congratulate them!"

"No!" Massie blurted, trying to pull her hand out of Kristen's grip. "We shouldn't! So many people are going to be there, I'm sure they don't want us to…" But the blonde ignored her protests, heaving her up and dragging her down to the field.

* * *

><p>"Your game was off, Derrick."<p>

The blonde rubbed his forehead, making his bangs stick up into the air thanks to a combination of dirt and sweat. "I saved almost every goal, Dad."

"Almost is the key word here," his father snarled. He had pulled him off to a secluded corner, far away from the celebrating team. As usual. He just _had_ to ridicule everything about him. "You made a bunch of silly mistakes. I thought you were better than that."

"I can't save _everything_," Derrick insisted. It was really hot. He wanted to shower, change, and go eat.

"You can if you just focus!"

_How can I focus when the only thing on my mind is my best friend and my ex-girlfriend?_ It was hard to think of anything else and every time Cam came into view, all he saw was Massie, Massie, Massie, and his fury built up so much inside of him.

"I did focus!" he shot back. "I focused as much as I could!"

"Focus _more_!"

"Can't you just critique me at home, Dad?" Derrick whined. His jersey was starting to stick to him uncomfortably. "This isn't necessary- not with everyone around…"

He spared a glance at the mob of people to his right while his father opened his mouth to answer back with some snide remark. Josh was off to the side, shifting and wringing his hands. He thanked everyone when they came up to congratulate him, but he looked just as Derrick felt: he wanted out.

Kemp was getting the most attention since he scored the last goal and Plovert was next to him, just as they always were. Cam, on the other hand… Cam was…

Oh.

Kristen and Massie were talking to him. Derrick knew he saw them in the crowd but hadn't expected them to come down and… he felt his heart drop significantly and then his blood boiled. Why was she here? _Why_ did she think it was okay to show her face after that party? Why- why was she fucking hugging him? Are you _kidding_? Seriously-

"_Derrick_!" his father snapped, grabbing his arm tightly. "Don't ignore me when I'm speaking to you!" He shook his limb in a rough manner.

"Ow," Derrick winced, gritting his teeth. He shook his father off of him, glaring up with a dark expression. "Can you _not_?"

"Don't give me attitude, boy," James hissed. "Now, go shower and meet me back at the car. We're going to work on your focus when we get home."

"But Dad, everyone's going to Slice of Heaven," Derrick insisted. "It's a tradition. I'm starving!"

"I honestly don't give a damn," his father snarled. "You can eat at home. If you want a scout to notice you, you can't zone out!"

"The game _just _ended." Derrick ran a hand through his hair, pulling at his scalp in frustration. "I'm exhausted. Can't we do this tomorrow?"

James pushed his son towards the locker room coldly, causing Derrick to almost trip over his feet. He stumbled, catching himself before he face-planted and stared murderously at his father from over his shoulder.

"Shower," the older Harrington snapped. "Get to the car. _No_ funny business."

Stupid soccer.

Stupid Dad.

Stupid Cam.

Stupid Massie.

Stupid _everything_.

* * *

><p>Massie bit her lip for what felt like the fiftieth time as she listened to Cam talk soccer with Kristen. Her gaze never left his face and she didn't understand why she was so mesmerized by his every feature. His dimples were really cute- she hadn't noticed he had them before right now. And the way his lips moved when he talked… He also had this really cute birthmark above his lip.<p>

He, like Kristen, got really passionate about soccer and Massie tried to keep up, but she had no idea what he was saying. It was all regulations and plays, something she didn't quite care for, but watching his face light up at the mere thought of the sport was something she really liked. His eyes were pretty in this light, too.

He offered her a small smile, his hair falling into his face. Her heart practically melted.

She hadn't felt this way since… since, well-

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Josh exclaimed loudly, throwing his arms around her.

Massie giggled, trying to wriggle away from him, but settled on leaning her head against his shoulder when she couldn't. "Surprise?"

"I didn't think you were gonna show," he told her, letting her go.

She shrugged. "Kris wanted to come and I didn't want her to come alone, so…"

"No, I get it," Josh teased, "you wanted to see me play. You're a really good friend. I hope I was good enough for you."

"You were horrible," she retorted, nudging his shoulder. "I can't believe you're even on the team."

"Ouch," he moaned. "That hurt me. Apologize."

"I don't apologize for the truth," Massie replied, eyes twinkling. "You're probably, like, the worst player on the entire team… Sorry you had to find out this way."

Josh shook his head. "I don't know why I'm friends with you."

"You were the one who kept _insisting_," she reminded him. "I told you. I'm not a very good friend."

"I think I can deal," Josh said brightly. "We all need some Massie Block in our lives to spice things up."

"It's true," Cam butted in, joining the conversation. "My life is never boring when Massie's in it."

"I literally just came back into it, like, last week." Massie rolled her eyes, but her body warmed at his compliment.

"And it has not been a boring week," Cam replied, throwing his arm around her.

She bit her lip again, hoping he didn't feel (or hear) her rapidly beating heart. This was awful. Why did he have this effect on her? She _didn't_ like him. She hadn't liked him before. Kissing someone when you were drunk did not suddenly make you attracted to them…

Josh snorted. "Oh, that's for sure." He looked at Massie knowingly, as if he knew exactly what was going on in her mind.

She narrowed her eyes, but he only grinned broadly.

"I like to lead an exciting life," she finally said out loud, cursing herself for sounding so _stupid_.

Cam didn't think she was though, only chuckling at her statement and asking if she and Kristen were going to come with them to Slice of Heaven to celebrate.

Massie opened her mouth to say _no but thank you for the invite really _but Kristen got to it before her, uttering the complete opposite. _Great_.

* * *

><p><strong>Landon<strong>: haha yeah I'm not a big fan of parties  
><strong>Dylan<strong>: then why were you there  
><strong>Landon<strong>: idk I just always go, more fun than sitting in my house  
><strong>Dylan<strong>: true, I don't think I ever want to drink again  
><strong>Landon<strong>: you say that now  
><strong>Dylan<strong>: no srsly I feel like vom  
><strong>Landon<strong>: still. A lot of my friends have said that after particularly bad nights and they took 'breaks' or whatever but they went back to it after a while  
><strong>Dylan<strong>: I won't  
><strong>Landon<strong>: we'll see about that

Dylan had only left her room to use the bathroom and get more water. Her stomach wasn't up to eating anything, but she had nibbled on the toast her sisters left on her bedside table. For hours, she had been talking to this Landon Crane kid. Apparently he had watched out for her all night. He didn't do a very good job of it, obviously, considering her current state of mind, but it was nice that he had.

He was helping her to put the pieces back together and she was sort of embarrassed by the number of things she had done and said. Seriously. She had blabbed about Kemp and Plovert more than once and he was under the impression that she was dating both of them._ Ew_.

Thankfully they hadn't ruined her day by texting her, so she was perfectly content with conversing with this boy. She didn't know much about him, could hardly remember what he looked like, but he was sweet.

It felt like she was talking to an old friend. He didn't push her the way she thought boys would, didn't try to make her feel bad about herself. In fact, he was almost giving her advice about things which made Dylan believe that he was older than she was. It sounded like he had a lot of experience when it came to parties and drinking. He didn't try to reprimand her like Ryan and Jamie. It was really nice. She liked talking to him.

**Dylan**: I swear, dude  
><strong>Landon<strong>: like I said: we'll see  
><strong>Dylan<strong>: you don't know me  
><strong>Landon<strong>: I know enough, Dylan  
><strong>Dylan<strong>: last night hardly counts for 'knowing me' I was drunk  
><strong>Landon<strong>: and you told me many things about yourself. I know you like oatmeal cookies more than chocolate chip and you don't understand the hype about the Hunger Games and that you don't think you're pretty  
><strong>Landon<strong>: which is completely false, by the way

Dylan bit the inside of her cheek, refraining from squealing. No matter how many times he said it, it still took her completely by surprise. It wasn't often something small like that got her excited- not after what Kemp and Plovert did to her- and it was hard to believe, but when Landon said she was pretty, she felt like she was on the top of the world.

She didn't know why. She could barely remember him.

**Dylan**: yeah yeah whatever

She didn't want to sound like she was _too_ pleased.

**Landon**: I don't know why you don't believe me but… I gotta go, my parents have some weird charity gala to go to and I'm forced to tag along. Mama Crane doesn't like for me to use my phone at these events  
><strong>Dylan<strong>: ew have fun  
><strong>Landon<strong>: thanks for the support :P  
><strong>Dylan<strong>: :D

* * *

><p>Alicia sniffed, pulling at her dress until it stretched unnaturally to her knees. This was a bad decision. A bad, bad, <em>bad<em> decision. The skirt should be touching the floor. She felt much too exposed. Everyone would be able to figure out what she had done the night before. It was practically written all over her body.

Why had she ever thought buying this Betsey Johnson dress was a good idea? It had looked good before. Now, though…now she looked stupid. The teal was good against her summer tan but she felt like she should be wearing a nun's outfit or something equivalent to it. It was too short. It didn't cover enough.

It had taken her quite some time to cover up the hickeys (three) on her neck and she was extremely self-conscious. She felt awful, like her head was going to explode and her stomach was going to throw itself up.

Her shoes made her legs look too nice. Maybe she should wear flats… no. The dress would look all wrong with flats…

"Mom," she whined, "do I have to go?"

Nadia Rivera looked up from her compact, spreading red lipstick on her lips. Her face instantly looked ten years younger. "Yes," she replied. "You're representing your father and I. This is a big event."

"Not even everyone in Westchester was invited, though," Alicia complained, remember that the Blocks had been on the list of _Not Going_. She hadn't understood at the time, but Massie had told her that her family was not part of the charity holding the event. They donated to a different one: the one that held their own dinner party in December.

Oh, how she wished Massie were going. She would even settle for Claire at this point. She didn't want to be alone. And that was saying a lot- she didn't even _like _Claire.

"Alicia Marie," her mother said sternly. "You are going to this event. You are going to act like a proper young lady and show the rest of the town how respectable the Riveras are." She eyed her daughter's outfit, fluffing her hair. "Cover yourself with a sweater. You're showing too much upper body."

The Latina groaned, making sure to stomp even harder than usual on her way up the stairs. She didn't _want_ to go. She wanted to stay in her bedroom and mope over the loss of her virginity. She was only fifteen. She was supposed to have her first time with someone she loved and someone she cared about.

"And put some tights on!" Nadia shouted up the stairs. "You need to look _dignified_! I will not have you embarrassing this family!"

Alicia made a face, bending down to take her heels off. Dignified. Embarrassing. Whatever. Nadia didn't look _that_ classy.

Stalking down the hall, she stopped at her parents' bedroom door, watching her father fix his tie. He looked very sharp in his suit. Very classy. Dignified. Not embarrassing. She knocked three times to get his attention.

"Hi, honey," he said distractedly. "You look nice."

"Not nice enough," she muttered.

Len arched an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Mom told me to put on tights and wear a sweater," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. She remembered what Derrick had said- boys _liked_ when she did that- and dropped them to her sides immediately. She had to break that habit.

"You know how she is," Len replied. "She cares a lot about appearances. Just humor her, will you?"

"I don't even want to _go_," Alicia insisted. "Do I have to? Can you tell Mom I should stay home?"

"No can do, buddy," her father said apologetically. "They invited you as well. You have to go."

"To show that we are a respectable family?" Alicia questioned. "No one really cares. I'm sure everyone goes for the free food and it's not even _that_ good."

Len chuckled. "It'll be over before you know it, squirt. Then you can go back to texting and gossiping over boys or whatever it is teenage girls do these days."

"I do not do that all the time," Alicia replied with an eye roll, continuing on her stomping tirade to her room.

Everyone was out to get her. There was really no point in her going to this charity gala. Why was it called a "gala" anyway? There was nothing "gala"ish about it. They sat. They ate. They listened to how much money each family donated the past year towards the cause. It was basically a chance to rub your wealth into everyone else's faces. It was _so_ fun and everyone _really _cared.

Not.

It was also a chance to show off outfits and throw the accomplishments and achievements of each child around. It wasn't about the charity or the meaning behind it- it never was.

* * *

><p>Slice of Heaven hadn't changed since the last time Massie and Kristen were there.<p>

It was still really hot inside and the soccer team still went off to the largest table in the back. Josh made Kristen and Massie sit with him. Massie was more than thrilled that Cam was on the opposite side of the table, sitting with Danny Robbins and some kid the brunette had never seen before.

She was confused with the way she reacting towards his every move and didn't like the fact that her gaze always somehow found its way towards him no matter what she was doing. Even as she replied to Alicia's _god help me I don't want to go to this gala_ text, she was peeking at Cam out of the corner of her eye, watching him interact with everyone at the table.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Josh whispered. Kristen cackled loudly.

Massie's cheeks flushed. "Shut up, I'm not doing anything."

"Only undressing Fish with your eyes," Josh teased, popping a garlic knot in his mouth. "It's okay though. I would be too if I were you."

"It was a drunken hookup!" Massie hissed. "It meant _nothing_."

"Then why are you staring at him so much?"

She would have snapped at him if Josh had not become one of the most tolerable people she had ever encountered. It was hard to _not_ be friends with him and Massie was glad she hadn't tried to resist it again. Just don't tell him that she liked being friends with him- he'd gloat for days.

"I'm _not_," she lied. "Just observing the table."

"You're not observing me," Josh pouted.

"Or me!" Kristen added.

"Are we not good enough for you?" the boy asked sadly. "Kristen, I don't think we're good enough for her."

"I guess we're not that pretty…" Massie could hear the amusement in Kristen's dulcet tone.

"It's hard to top Fish's beauty," Josh agreed.

Massie threw a balled-up napkin at his head. "You're so annoying."

"You love me."

"Debatable."

"Oh, come on, Mass," Josh began, flipping his hat around again. To be honest, Massie thought he should just wear it backwards. It suited him better. "I'm not judging you. It's okay to be attracted to him."

Kristen leaned forward to make eye contact with her. "You never gave anyone details. Was he a good kisser?"

"Ooh, please share," Josh mocked. "I love to participate in girl talk. Really, it's so much fun."

Massie flicked him. "Yeah," she answered Kristen's question. "He was."

"I would hope so," Josh spoke before the blonde could. "It would suck if he wasn't. I would feel sorry for you."

"Oh, shush."

"Would you do it again?"

Massie shrugged. "Maybe." _Yeah_.

"I sense romance in the air." Josh ducked his head, eyes scanning something on his phone. His fingers tapped a rhythm only known to him on the tabletop. Massie couldn't hear it over the sound of the music blaring through the speakers.

"There is no _romance_." Massie rolled her eyes. "This isn't, like, some sappy chick flick. It's not like we're going to fall in love or-" Josh's face paled and his fingers dropped to his plate, lying motionless. "-are you okay?"

He looked up quickly, smiling at her. "Yeah." He powered his phone off, slipping it back into his pocket. "Yeah. I'm great."

But Josh wasn't great and Massie wouldn't know this until way, way later.


	17. sixteen

wow i wasn't expecting the onslaught of reviews i've received, but thank you so much for all of them!

in response to a lot of them, i don't want to reveal _final_ pairings but... cassie is temporary. it is a must, though, for certain character developments and such. i hope that doesn't deter you from reading the story because it's not all about massie!

(but in case you were wondering, i have an idea for a complete massington story)

review again? you guys are really good at it!

* * *

><p>"Dad, I really don't want to – I'm tired – can't we just –"<p>

_Wham_.

The soccer ball slammed right into Derrick's cheek, forcing him back just a few miniscule steps. His fingers threaded into the net to keep him upright, but the sting was hard to ignore. With a glare, he rubbed his face, wincing.

"What the _hell_?"

James Harrington nonchalantly looked at his son, his muscular body intimidating in the darkening night. "If you were paying attention, you would have been able to block that."

"You hit me in _the face_," Derrick complained, gingerly applying pressure to the now-forming bruise. His face seemed to be full of them now. "How could I have saved that?"

"Cover your face with your hands," his father supplied. "You have to be ready for everything."

"I'm so tired, though, I can't just… you haven't even let me take a break!"

"Scouts will not appreciate a player who takes _breaks_ when they're _tired_, Derrick."

"I'm a sophomore, Dad," the younger boy shot back. "They're not looking at me. They're looking at people like Robbins and Jefferies. I'm just another kid on the team to them."

"I will not have you ruining your future!"

Derrick opened his mouth to retort – _but I don't want to be a professional soccer player, I don't _want_ this_ – when something else entirely came out: "Like you did?"

James' eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

Okay, so it was a low blow, but Derrick was _so_ tired and _so_ hungry… It just slipped out. "You heard me."

"I will not tolerate you speaking to me like that."

"Then let me rest!" Derrick exclaimed loudly. "Let me _eat_. I'm not going to do what you did – I'm not going to act on stupid impulses and ruin my chances of playing pro! I don't even _want_ to play pro!" He paused, taking a deep breath. "This… this is _my_ life, not yours. If you want the best for me, you wouldn't pull me in every direction! That's not going to get scouts to notice me!"

That was probably the wrong thing to say. It was never a good idea to throw his father's lost chances back in his face, but _shit_. Derrick wanted him to get off his back, to leave him alone until it really mattered. It was hard enough having his father as his coach, but he expected _so much_ from him just because he had once played soccer in high school. Then he tore his ACL, ruined everything he had worked for and – this wasn't going to happen to Derrick. He didn't want any of it and that was the reason why.

What soccer was to him was nothing more than a hobby. Something to pass time. It wasn't like he was devoted to joining some team and becoming the next David Beckham or Cristiano Ronaldo. He… he liked it. That was it. He had other dreams, other plans hidden somewhere inside of him. He wasn't allowed to find them, though, because James Harrington had his entire life planned out for him.

Since the day Derrick was born, his father had outlined every last second of his life. He got him into soccer as early as age four, practically taught him everything he knew by the time he could stand on his own two feet without falling. He pushed him through nameless soccer teams and leagues throughout the district, made him the goalie he was today. It was because of all that that Derrick managed to be made captain for the last two years of middle school and scored a spot on the varsity team as a freshman. (And no, it wasn't favoritism. His father hadn't been allowed to watch his try-out.)

But… soccer wasn't what he wanted. Derrick knew that much. He wanted something else. He wanted –

"_Ow_!"

"You don't know how it felt to lose everything, Derrick." The words were melancholy but his father's tone was the complete opposite. His eyes narrowed dangerously; the second soccer ball stayed by Derrick's feet. His abdomen ached from the force of the kick. "I'm not cut out to sit at a desk and sort through paperwork. I'm not cut out for this –"

"What?" Derrick rolled his eyes. "A family? Because yeah, you're not."

"I don't want to coach a high school team full of mediocre players, knowing they won't get anywhere."

"This isn't a job opportunity for half of us," Derrick insisted, running a hand through his hair. His every muscle smarted. "For you, it might have been, but for the team? It's nothing but something to do. Maybe Jefferies wants to continue it but… not all of us."

"You could go far if you let yourself," James told him, prepping himself to kick yet another ball.

Derrick felt his whole body tense, watching the slight movements his father made. He wasn't ready yet to send the black-and-white sphere flying but the blonde was taking no chances. He was sore all over and his father was not in the best of moods. Derrick could partially blame himself.

"Boys!"

Derrick felt himself relax entirely with the sound of his mother's voice, releasing a breath he had not noticed he was holding in. Candace Harrington stood at the back door, her blonde hair tied away from her face. Even though she was dressed plainly, she was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

"Candace, can't you see…"

She shot his father a stern look, shutting him up immediately. "It's six o'clock, James. You've been out here for _hours_. Derrick is a growing boy and dinner is on the table. I would like for him to eat, not stay out here and practice his free throws or whatever."

Derrick's lips formed an amused grin, always finding it endearing that his mother never really knew what was going on in the world of sports. Sometimes she got it right and sometimes she didn't.

"He plays _soccer_, not_ basketball_," James corrected her.

"Oh, well," she shrugged. "Get inside and wash up."

James grunted. "I have some work to do so I'll just take my plate upstairs."

"As usual," Derrick muttered, following silently after the departing form of his father.

James was in the house in seconds, grabbed his plate, and stormed up the stairs before Derrick could even think about changing his route to head to the bathroom to wash his hands. He couldn't recall the last time they ate dinner together at the table – just the three of them. They had been together last weekend when Sammi stopped by, taking a few days off from college, but that was it. It seemed like his father only wanted to pay attention to his daughter, like she was the only one who _hadn't_ disappointed him yet.

Candace pressed a cold cloth to Derrick's face and he yelped, the coolness startling him. "Shh," she said softly. "I'll get you some ice for that." She pressed lightly against his smarting bruise. "And I made cookies for dessert."

"Sounds good," Derrick murmured, wondering briefly why anyone as sweet as his mother would want to marry James Harrington.

* * *

><p><em>Did you have fun last night?<em>

After her mother left – for what seemed like forever – Claire had rushed up to her bedroom, hiding herself away until she could figure out what actually happened. Jay hadn't stopped her, electing to sit in the kitchen again. Claire heard the telltale sign of alcohol being poured and decided she didn't want to be anywhere near him when that was going on.

She had no idea where Todd was; she hoped he wouldn't be coming home any time soon. Most of Judi's things were still in the house but there was an obvious feeling of loss spreading throughout the house that she was sure her younger brother would notice immediately.

Claire felt numb, like someone could hit her and she wouldn't even feel it. In fact, she didn't feel _anything_. Not sadness or disappointment. It was as if all of her emotions were wiped out completely.

And just like last night, it seemed as if Skye Hamilton knew exactly when Claire was insecure or uncomfortable because she immediately sent her an instant message as soon as the younger blonde returned to her room.

Normally Claire would find this extremely confusing – why would a junior want to bother with her? Especially Skye Hamilton – but she was so _done_ that it hardly registered in her mind as weird.

_If I'm being honest, no_, Claire typed back, brushing her bangs out of her face. She really needed a haircut…

What was she supposed to do without a mother? It wasn't like she had one anyway; Judi changed so much more than the rest of them as the months flew by in Westchester. At least Jay acted like he was a parental figure. Judi turned into Kendra Block's actual twin. The two were never seen apart: always shopping, never taking care of their responsibilities. Claire didn't know what really happened, but whatever it was, it took her mother away.

_Yeah, I'm sorry about that whole thing ): _

How would Todd react to all of this? He was the most impressionable. He was only a year younger than her but he was such a baby. This would absolutely crush him.

_Oh I don't like Cam anymore so it doesn't really bother me_

Slightly true. Slightly false. It bothered her immensely, yes, but it wasn't because of Cam. She was more confused about Massie's friendship with Josh than anything else. It didn't really make any sense considering just last week – _seven days ago_ – she was boycotting everything about them and sending her nasty looks and text messages. What had changed? What was so appealing about them that could change the stubborn Massie Block's mind?

_That's good but I was talking about the things they said about you… _

The… the things they said about her? About _Claire_?

Just take her at her most vulnerable and knock her down, why don't you?

_What do you mean 'things they said'?_

* * *

><p>When Massie had announced to the rest of the table that she had to go home, she had expected a group farewell or something along those lines. She had expected Kristen to get up with her, ask for a ride home, and then for them to gossip in the car. Instead, Cam asked if she wanted him to walk her home since he had to get back anyway and Kristen was too absorbed in a conversation with Kemp to even bother noticing her friend was leaving.<p>

This was definitely _not_ good. Josh shot her an amused look, ignoring her death glare, and Massie, being a very polite young woman, could do nothing but allow Cam to escort her home. (After all, it was dark and girls should not walk home alone. William always instilled that into her mind.)

"Bye, Cam, Mass," Plovert said from the other side of the table.

Cam went around to bump fists with him, having a somewhat whispered conversation. Massie stood awkwardly waiting for him, scrolling through her text messages in order to send a rather nasty one to Kristen for blatantly ignoring her (and badly doing so).

Her fingers were just about to type her witty response when Cam's deep voice murmured, "Ready to go?"

Losing her grip on her phone, she looked up at him, squeezing it tightly in her fist. His eyes shone down at her, twinkling with some sort of glint, and she nodded wordlessly, unable to find anything to say to him.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh._ Stupid_.

She could hear Josh and Kristen snickering at her pathetic behavior. It wasn't her fault she couldn't function properly – she was confused and being confused rendered her endlessly dumb.

"Okay," he said, leading her out of the restaurant.

Before she had even stepped two feet out of Slice of Heaven, her phone vibrated with Josh's name. She knew she would probably regret opening it because he was such an idiot, but she needed something to do in order to get past this awkward tension that surrounded the pair.

**Josh**: :* :* :* :* :*

Well… she felt as if she had just lost brain cells. Josh was even more of an idiot than usual, something Massie hadn't thought possible.

She contemplated answering him back in her usual snarky manner but decided it probably wasn't worth it because he'd find some other way to answer her back without getting the least bit insulted. Josh had many characteristics that Alicia possessed, making him quite compatible as Massie's friend. She wondered if that was a good thing or not.

She didn't get far in her thought process. She was interrupted by Cam yet again and she turned her head just a miniscule amount to observe him. She had no idea what he just said, but she could honestly say that his lips were a pink color she sort of wished her lip gloss could capture.

Wait, now he was staring at her and she honestly hadn't been listening. Awkward.

"Uh, what?" she asked, fighting the urge to bite her lip. "I was –" She held up her phone, waving it slightly. This was dumb.

"I saaaaid," he spoke dramatically, "do you want to talk about what happened last night?"

"Oh." _No, not really, thank you, let's go home, yeah? _"I was drunk." _Way to be stupid, okay, obviously he knows that. I mean he was drunk too so –_

"So was I," Cam replied. "I just wanted to make sure that things weren't going to be, like, awkward or anything between us."

"Of course it won't."

"Good." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I wouldn't want our mending friendship to end over that or anything."

"That would be stupid," Massie said awkwardly, swallowing. "I mean, it ended before over something stupid so…"

Cam made a face. "Let's not talk about that," he muttered, scratching his neck. "I'm pretty sure I'm talking for the rest of the guys when I say I think we made a mistake about that."

Massie cocked her head to the side, her hair falling over her right shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It just means that… uh… we were wrong, I guess," Cam explained, eyes locked on the ground. "You know, we didn't hate having you around last night – I know Josh is thrilled that you actually want to be friends with him. I can't really say the same about Claire, but you… you're okay."

She didn't know whether to hit him for being sappy or to blush at his compliment. It wasn't every day she heard that a group of boys _wanted_ to be friends with her. But really, what was he even saying? They hardly knew if their decision to hang out with her was a good idea. They were all drunk and judgments weren't topnotch when one was out of the loop like that.

"So how's that going?" she asked, pushing away those insecurities. "Josh. And Claire. Do you still have feelings for her?"

Cam snorted, meeting her gaze for the first time. "Nope."

She smiled tentatively, unaware of what to say. Sure, she was happy that both of them were over each other and had moved on or whatever, but she felt awfully uncomfortable with the whole situation. This was first time someone in the Pretty Committee actually recycled – if she could even call it that – a boy. There had been a lot of tension between the five girls for quite some time and there still was, if she was to be honest.

Alicia had moved on (to Danny, of all people). Claire and Josh had moved on to each other. Cam said he moved on and his drunken actions proved it. That was good, right?

"It's pretty awkward when Claire comes to eat lunch with us because I don't talk to her, but that's about it," Cam told her, stopping short at the corner. He looked around, sighing to himself. "Uh, I don't remember how to get to your house."

Massie grabbed his hand, pulling him around the corner. "Have you ever even been to my house?"

"Yeah, for that Halloween party that one time," he replied, moving his hand so he could intertwine their fingers, "but that was, like, a year ago. And Harris drove me."

"That hardly counts," teased Massie, hoping the warm feeling running throughout her arm was not related to an early heart attack.

* * *

><p>Kristen quietly shut the front door behind her, padding into her apartment. It was almost seven and she had gotten a ride home from Josh after Cam walked Massie home. The blonde had tried to pry information out of Josh about the whole ordeal (he was bound to know something about it) but he remained silent.<p>

She didn't know how to feel about being (sort of) friends with them again. They had done some pretty terrible things to the girls, but, in retrospect, the girls had hurt them too. But being around them when everyone was relaxed and really enjoying themselves… it was what Kristen missed. The friendship. The teasing. The jokes.

She could tell the boys had missed it too.

So maybe they had all collectively broken each other's hearts. That didn't mean they couldn't mend them.

"Kristen Michelle, do you _know_ what time it is?"

She jumped, startled by the sudden noise. She hadn't seen her mother in the living room. "Uh…" She consulted the clock on the microwave. "Six fifty-nine?"

Marsha looked furious. "You were supposed to be home directly after the game, Kristen," she reminded her, tapping her foot against the floor. "I highly doubt a soccer game that started at noon ended at _seven_."

"I know, but we went to get pizza and –"

"Getting pizza will not get you into a good college, Kristen."

"_Mom_," Kristen sighed. "I'm a _sophomore_. I shouldn't even have to worry about college right now."

"You should always be thinking of college," her mother retorted. "Having terrible grades this early on is only an indication of what will happen in the future."

Kristen rolled her eyes. "It's only September," she said in her most composed of voices. She was sick and tired of having this conversation. "I've barely gotten any work and anything that I have, I've gotten good grades on."

"Yes. _Good_ grades. Not spectacular," Marsha nitpicked. "You've done well, but you need to do _better_."

"Mom –"

"Don't Mom me. College is important. You are too smart to go to a community college and we cannot afford anything else so it is crucial you get a scholarship –"

Kristen tugged at her hair, her patience running thin. "My grades are good. You can't expect me to have phenomenal grades so soon at a new school. I hardly know how my teachers are going to test me… I can't just be perfect all the time." Her mother opened her mouth to speak, but she continued without even slowing: "And if you can't afford a good college, change your definition of 'good'. I don't have to get into an Ivy League to get a proper education."

"You will not speak to me like that, Kristen Michelle," Marsha snapped, eyes narrowed angrily. "Go to your room and study. I want all As on your report card this semester or so help me God, I will…"

Kristen never heard the end of her mother's threat for she stomped off to her room in the midst of it. She shouldn't be getting this angry, but all she heard these days was _get good grades_, _if you fail…_ and _education is important_! Her mother hated the fact that she was going out with friends, that she had somewhere to be last night. It was as if it were more important to sit at home and have no social life whatsoever.

It was so annoying, too, because she had so much time to worry about her grades and where she would be attending after high school. Everyone she had ever encountered told her to have fun sophomore year because that essentially was where it all ended. She'd have things to do and worry about when junior and senior year came around. Didn't her mother get that? Didn't her mother do that herself?

Why was it that Kristen had to do everything better and grander than everyone else? Oh, _right_ – money was such an issue. Money was _always_ an issue. Ever since Kristen's father lost his big job, they had to squeeze into a budget that hardly fit the entire family. Kristen didn't care about not being able to buy designer clothes, but having to limit herself entirely was an annoying hassle.

Schools gave financial aid, she knew that much. The Gregorys more than qualified for it. It was… ugh, it was so _stupid_.

A new school meant she could be a different person. She didn't want to be labeled as the "know it all" again. Even though she was friends with Massie Block and Alicia Rivera, the girls at OCD always found something to make fun of her with and it was always the same thing: her large mind. At Briarwood, she could have been someone different, someone _fun_. Thanks to her parents, she was stuck in the same role, the pretty smart one who was good for nothing but help with homework and tests. She almost avoided it, too, but then she got forced into tutoring and that – that was it.

She was back into this mold of herself (and there were many molds of Kristen). All she really wanted was to have fun for the remainder of her high school career and not really worry about the grades and the college and the… basically, _everything_.

But with her mother in the next room and the Ivy Leagues written on the board behind her, she had no choice in the matter. She _never_ had a choice.

She sighed and flipped open her chemistry book. She had a text next Thursday.

(So did Derrick, but whatever.)

* * *

><p>Alicia glanced surreptitiously at her parents before taking a deep, deep, <em>deep<em> gulp of the wine in front of her. In normal situations, her parents wouldn't care about her having a little something to drink with dinner, but this was a different setting entirely and she had to be Miss Proper around these people. The fact that she even had the drink in front of her was probably causing controversy, but everyone had something regardless of age.

This charity event was absolutely pointless and boring. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much and her ego was boosted at an incredible rate. Nadia and Len had bragged about her every achievement, including getting the big solo in her dance company's next competition and the Westchester Gazette's interest in her one article about children and technology. They conveniently forgot to mention that she was expelled even though everyone else knew about that already.

She didn't quite care much for everyone else's accomplishments. Kori Gedman got the coveted varsity spot on the Sirens soccer team, something that should have gone to Kristen if they had still been at OCD. Dempsey Solomon – whoever _that _was – had just returned from Africa, helping build schools and such over there. Such a good person, that one.

And now she was listening to the host of the night drone on and on about the amount of money each family had donated in the course of the year. Awesome.

Currently, the Jennings family was in the lead, but they wouldn't be for long, Alicia overheard some older couple behind her say. She wondered how much her parents had given but couldn't find it in herself to care that much. They did a lot already. Her mother frequently asked her model friends to contribute to the cause (_what was the cause again_?) and her father was always defending everyone under the sun. To add to that, they were constantly donating graciously to OCD…when Alicia was in OCD.

Still, this was boring and she didn't understand why she was here.

"You look like you're going to fall asleep in your pasta," a voice to her right whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

Concealing her shock, Alicia turned her head a notch, meeting the gaze of a boy she had never met before. "Probably will," she replied, scrutinizing his features. Blue eyes. Dark hair. Nice cheekbones. Cute.

"I wish I were tired enough for that," he continued, looking slightly relieved that she answered him.

"Just listen to her talk," she advised. "You'll be out like _that_."

He smiled slightly. "I'm Landon," he introduced.

"Alicia," she returned, holding out her hand.

"Oh, I know," he answered. She shot him a confused look. How did he know her and if she didn't know him? "My friend Danny talked about you constantly."

_Oh_. Alicia forced a smile, shaking his hand after he grasped hers. "That's cool," she responded, inwardly wincing.

The name Danny made her stomach roll and talking to his friend made her feel even more nauseous than she had all day. It was hard to remember what she did yesterday night; she wanted nothing more than to forget it ever happened. Better yet, she wanted to jump into a time machine and go back to tell herself what she knew now. To warn herself so she wouldn't do it. She didn't want it, no matter what she thought when it was going on. It was awkward to think about and now that she could without crying uncontrollably, it was rather disappointing to be honest. He wasn't even that good…not like she had anyone else to compare him to. It didn't excite her, that's all.

"Yeah," Landon replied with a grin. "You seem just as a cool as he described."

_Oh, god, what had he said about her to his friends_?

Alicia bit her lip, her lips pointing upwards. It was getting hard to talk to someone who was friends with the boy who had taken her virginity and ignored her text message (sent at three thirty saying _thanks for inviting me last night, I had fun c:_). It reminded her of everything she did wrong and she almost started smelling the tequila shots she took all over again.

Why did Massie's parents have to fund a different charity? Why, why, why?

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint," she said weakly.

* * *

><p>When Josh had a problem, he always went to his mother. No matter what it was, she always seemed to know the answer. This time, however, he was a little hesitant to do so, unable to figure out what her reaction would be to this issue in particular. It wasn't every day that one's son came up to them to tell them that a boy kissed him and he might have actually liked it…<p>

He knew his mother wouldn't judge him; she always said that he should follow his gut and his heart rather than society, but this… this was huge. It made him really uncomfortable just thinking about it, but she would know what to do.

Biting his lip, he slipped downstairs from his bedroom, searching for his mother. He saw his sister in the kitchen, eating cookies, and gave her a small wave. Her tiny face lit up when she smiled. He felt bad every time he was mean to her, but she was so annoying at her age. _So. Annoying_.

His mom wasn't in the living room. Or the dining room. Where he found her was the den with his father, both staring at the television, watching some sort of program that Josh couldn't quite see.

"Hi, honey," she greeted, moving the pillow from next to her. "Have you come to watch with us?"

Josh shrugged, moving around the table and seating himself beside her. "What is this?"

"Oh, it's just-"

But Josh's mother was cut off by his father: "Do we _have_ to watch this?"

Startled, Josh looked from the screen to his parent, frowning at his father's furious expression. His mom placed a hand on his shoulder and softly said, "It's just a movie, darling. It'll be over in a few moments."

"I refuse to watch such things!" he snapped. "This is my house and I will not tolerate these actions!"

Josh blinked. What was _actually_ going on right now? Was his father really having a temper tantrum over a _movie_? He averted his gaze from his parents to the screen before it was changed and swallowed roughly.

Law and Order was immediately put on its place, but Josh could not get rid of the feeling settling in his stomach. It made him nauseous and uncomfortable and he immediately wanted to get out of there.

"Honey, was that really necessary?"

"I do not like gay people," his father bit out.

Yeah, this was probably not the best time to talk about his experience at that party. Maybe later.

Or never.

* * *

><p>Claire blinked back her tears, gaze set on her computer screen. Why was she feeling something for <em>this<em> and not her mother's leaving? How was she so oblivious to everything? She didn't notice that her mother and father were fighting for longer than what was obvious or that her mother turned into a drunkard. She didn't notice when her family was falling apart…and she didn't notice when her friends were starting to hate her.

_I don't know where you were, maybe with Massie? But I saw Alicia and Kristen and Dylan together before Alicia went swimming and they were talking about you. I mean, I know Alicia doesn't like you for obvious reasons but Dylan and Kristen were agreeing with her about all of this shit. Like, they were saying you were so annoying and didn't even fit in with the rest of them and that Massie was only friends with you because she felt bad and you lived in her guesthouse and it was uncomfortable to hate someone when they lived so close to her._

_And then the four of them got together and Kristen was all, "Shouldn't we just tell her now? This is getting ridiculous" because I think they wanted to kick you out of the group or whatever, and Massie was like, "No not yet her family life isn't so good"_

Oh, Claire replied, fingers trembling.

She didn't know anyone knew about her parents. Hell, she hadn't even known about her parents. And didn't Massie say she hadn't heard anything? Had she lied to her? But why would she…? Claire nibbled on her lower lip, watching as Skye typed.

Why was Skye even doing this? She disliked the Pretty Committee. The Pretty Committee disliked the DSL Daters. They butted heads constantly. They didn't agree. It was all…

_I'm sorry about that, by the way. I hope things get better. _

_I just figured you should know about all of this considering they're your "friends" and everything. _

That's nice of you, Claire typed back. Why are you doing this?

_Doing what? _

Telling me this, being a decent human being.

_Because, Claire, I like you. I like you a hell of a lot more than I like Massie or Dylan or Kristen or Alicia. They're not genuine people like you. They don't care like you. They're self-absorbed and conceited. They don't even care about you or your feelings…and someone should. _

That was true. When was the last time the girls had thought of extending an invitation to the mall? Claire was stupid. She knew when she was invited somewhere. She knew when they were making fun of her by the looks they shared between themselves. Kristen never wanted to hang out with her one on one anymore like they used to. Dylan didn't like to get food with her randomly during the day. Massie never asked her to come by for homework help. They never gave her their old clothes to fix her wardrobe.

To top it all off, Massie was taking Josh _away_ from her. It was obvious he wanted to be around her more than Claire; it was like he _liked_ her or something…but everyone liked Massie more than her. Cam obviously did or he wouldn't have made out with her- not like Claire cared since he was history but it was so annoying.

And Alicia was always trying to tear her down because she was closer to Massie than she was nowadays. Get over it, honestly- it wasn't that big of a deal. They were still best friends. Claire just knew some things. It wasn't even her fault that people liked her better. She wasn't whiny. She didn't do all these things for attention from boys. She might not have the hot body Alicia did but she didn't have to flaunt it to get boys to like her. They liked her personality.

Dylan was just jealous that Claire could eat obscene amounts of sugary, fattening foods and not gain weight. Fast metabolism is what she had and she didn't even work out. Her only exercise was physical education and that was hardly cutting it.

She really had nothing negative to say about Kristen because she was probably the most well-rounded, but if she didn't like Claire either then whatever.

Obviously however many months of friendship- genuine, true friendship- didn't mean anything. Besides, wanting to be friends with the Pretty Committee wasn't the same was actually _being_ friends with them. You would think they did a lot of cool, fun things but really, they sat around each other's bedrooms and braided hair and painted nails. They didn't go out and hang out with boys that much- only ones they thought deserved it and there weren't that many- or throw huge parties. They all tried to be intimidating and unapproachable but they just didn't have _it_.

That was one of the reasons they hated the DSL Daters so much. They had it. Whatever 'it' was, Skye and her friends possessed large quantities of it and they weren't sharing.

_I'm not trying to hurt you here. I just think you of all people should know what's being said behind your back. I don't believe in that kind of thing. If you have a problem with someone, I always say, tell them. It's a waste of time to gossip like that. I hate to break it to you, but the Pretty Committee is not stable. _

I'm fully aware of that, Claire told her, surprised that even after her powerful pep talk, her eyes were still stinging and her cheeks were slightly damp. She shouldn't be crying over this. If they didn't want her, so be it.

_You know what, Claire? How about you hang out with us tomorrow? We're going to the mall. Does that sound good? _

Eat lunch…with the DSL Daters? Claire bit her lip again, unsure of what to say. She didn't necessarily want to be _friends_ with these older girls. She wished Layne still liked her or wanted to talk to her. She wished she hadn't ruined that friendship months ago. That way, she'd have someone to be around, a social life…anything.

Her confused gaze found its way to the window and she looked out on the Blocks property. It was getting darker and the pool shone in the light. It was big, there was no doubt about that. Claire always like the circular driveway the best, she didn't know why exactly and there was- _oh_.

Hi, Cam. Hi, Massie.

Frowning, Claire turned about to her computer, fingers flying across the keys.

Sure, she said, what time should I be ready by?

* * *

><p>"You know I could have just called Isaac," Massie said conversationally. "It would have taken us less time."<p>

Cam shrugged. "I like to walk."

"Why?"

"It gives me a lot of time to think," he admitted, looking down at her. He was a good three inches or so- maybe more- taller than her. "Clear my mind, I guess."

"What are you thinking about?"

Her inquisitive question kind of made her uncomfortable. Did she really want to know what he was thinking about? Not particularly. What if it was about, like, how stupid she looked or acted or-

"There's just a lot of things going on, y'know?" he started and they turned down Massie's block. "Like, I never thought Claire would date Josh or that we'd want to be friends with you guys again. I mean, if it weren't for Josh, really, none of us would be talking to you guys- or maybe just you and Kristen since we didn't really interact with the others…"

"It is kind of weird," she agreed. "I didn't want to be friends with Josh but I couldn't keep saying no."

Cam chuckled. "He wouldn't have taken it for an answer, I hope you're aware of that. He'd keep trying."

Massie rolled her eyes. "I know," she replied and then: "Are you guys okay?"

"Who?"

"You and Josh."

He shrugged. "There was never a time when we weren't, really," he told her. "We're not girls. No offense or anything, but we kind of just get mad at each other, fight it out a bit, and then we're back to being buds again. It's not… we don't prolong something that shouldn't matter."

"Oh," she nodded her head. "I just thought you'd be like-"

"Like Claire and Alicia?" suggested Cam. Massie tentatively bobbed her head. "Nah. What they're doing… that's petty. That's not just a fight over Josh or me or whatever it's about. It's… it's something more, they're just using that as an excuse to be at each other's throats."

"So you're saying that they're not really upset over the whole Josh debacle?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Cam's voice was really easy to listen to. It was deep and smooth; Massie could practically get lost in it. "Look at the situation: Claire's got Josh. Cool. Awesome. Good for her. Alicia's not trying to get him back. She's off with other boys, doing her own thing, and yet whenever they're together they bitch about Josh, am I right?"

"More or less, yeah."

"It doesn't add up so there's something else there although I'm not sure what it is."

Massie mulled this over, noticing that her house was coming up quickly on her left. It slightly bothered her that it was there. It seemed like such a short walk.

"When did you get so smart, Cam?"

He grinned. "I was always smart, Massie. You just never noticed."

Massie pushed his shoulder lightly. "I don't think we've ever had a deep, philosophical conversation before this, so of course I would never notice!"

"Your loss." He nudged her back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

They stopped at Massie's iron gate, waiting for her to type in the passcode. She warned Cam to stay back because he couldn't know her family's secret ("Because I'm _such_ a hooligan," he retorted). Slowly but surely the gate opened and the brunette turned on her heel to thank Cam for walking all this way with her when he lived across town.

"I'll walk you to your door," he said with an easygoing smile. "You don't know what could happen on the way there. It's a long walk."

"You don't have to," she insisted. "You live pretty far and it's going to get dark soon. You're going to miss dinner or something."

Cam glanced at his watch, shrugging. "I've got time to spare."

Massie felt her cheeks flush again and allowed him to escort her to her front porch. "Thanks," she murmured when the time came for them to part. She searched through her bag for her house key. "You didn't have to walk me home."

_Where was… aha, found it- _

"No problem," he replied. "It was the gentlemanly thing to do."

"We could have just called Isaac," she reminded him.

"Why? Not wearing the right shoes?"

Massie looked down at her feet, wiggling her toes in her gladiators. "No, these are the right pair," she responded. "They make my outfit…" Her voice trailed off.

"Cute?" he questioned.

They shared a look, almost as if they were both remembering the conversation they had the night before (and they probably were).

"Yeah," she said, her throat scratchy. "Yeah, the other ones I had didn't-"

But she didn't get to tell him how most of the shoes in her massive collection hadn't really tied the ensemble together the way these did because he was cupping her face in his hands and kissing her in a way that very slightly resembled last night.

* * *

><p>Alicia was <em>so<em> bored.

This Landon kid was not very good company. Every two seconds he would bring up Danny's name like she was supposed to have some specific kind reaction. He was cute, yeah, and he kept her occupied for quite some time, but there was something off about him that she didn't like. It might have been the fact that he was friends with Danny or it could have been something else. She didn't want to focus on it, really, so when she was given the opportunity to go to the bathroom, she rushed there as if her life depended on it.

She took her phone too, hoping she could call Massie or someone after a quick makeup check.

Taking a deep breath, she reapplied her eyeliner (it was smudging) and applied another coat of gloss to her lips. They were kind of chapped. She gave her hair a quick flip, fixed her part (it was in the middle and she hated middle parts; they were so first grade), and checked for split ends. What she deducted was that she needed a haircut. Not too much though, she was known for her long, long, _long_ locks of so-black-it-looks-blue hair.

She pulled her phone out of her clutch to see she had about four new text messages waiting for her. Thank _god_. She needed this distraction. She couldn't stand it at this event any longer. It was boring and long and she didn't honestly care about anything. She doubted anyone else did. The food wasn't even that good, so she had picked at the salad and ate the croutons. She knew she couldn't stay in this bathroom forever but she could spend a good chunk of time replying to these-

**455-3452: **hey I heard you were easy but I'll pay whatever you want if you'll swing by my place tonight

**Unknown:** wanna bang? I'm much better than robbins is

**Restricted:** skank

**672-5431:** idk about you but I'm genuinely upset you thought it would be a good idea to fuck robbins, he doesn't know his dick from his foot. I'll show you a good time ;)

Or… better yet, maybe she'd stay in here forever.


	18. seventeen

yayay more development :3

* * *

><p>Now, if there was one thing everyone knew about Kemp, it was that he hardly gave two shits about everyone else. Their problems didn't mean a thing to him. He was most commonly called conceited and self-absorbed and he'd agree with that one hundred percent. Nothing ever fazed him unless it had absolutely everything to do with him. Even then, he'd probably only care just enough to figure out what was going on and end the rumors circulating about himself- unless they were true, then he'd leave them be.<p>

But there was something else everyone knew about Kemp: he cared deeply for his friends. So deeply in fact that his attitude towards other peoples' problems goes null and void. Their (Derrick, Cam, Josh, Plovert) problems become _his_.

So this whole thing with Josh was bugging him. There was obviously something wrong; he never acted this way around them, all secretive and nervous. Every time he heard someone laugh, he jumped and looked around frantically. Kemp wasn't normally observant. All of these weird behaviors were so obvious he couldn't help but notice.

Something was up with Josh Hotz. Rarely anything bothered him to the point of isolation but that was exactly what he was doing. Ignoring text messages. Saying he "couldn't" hang out when they all knew his mother rarely cared if he hung out with his friends. It was these little inconsistencies in Josh's behavior and personality that forced Kemp out of his house and at his front door that Sunday morning.

Ringing the doorbell, he looked around. Gretchen seemed to have put up some fall decorations; little leaves and pumpkins were stuck to the front windows. Kemp didn't know what it was with mothers but they always wanted to decorate for every holiday. _His_ mother put up things related to Columbus Day. Was that normal? Was there, like, some rule in the Mother's Handbook that stated _one must decorate for all holidays no matter what_? There had to be.

In all of his musing, he had missed the part where the door opened…so Kayla, Josh's, like, five-year-old sister, took it upon herself to kick him in the shin.

"_Ow_- what the fuck- who-"

"You're not supposed to say things like that," she told him in her high-pitched, know-it-all voice. Oh, how he disliked her. "Mommy told me those are _bad_ words. She's not going to like that she said that."

"You kicked me," Kemp muttered. "I can say whatever I want. I was taken by surprise."

"Surprised or not, you shouldn't say that!" she squealed. "You should clean your mouth out with soap! Come with me!" She gripped his hand with such strength his fingers hurt and before Kemp knew it, Kayla was dragging him through the house without his consent.

"_Kayla_," he hissed. "Kayla. Let go of me. I don't need to eat soap. I'm good. I'm fifteen-"

"Kemp, you said something bad. When I said something bad that one time, my mom cleaned my mouth out with soap," she said sternly. "I am going to teach you a lesson."

She stomped through the kitchen where Gretchen was at the counter, making some sort of dough. "Kayla, you know you're not supposed to answer the door… oh, hi, honey, Josh is upstairs if you want-"

"_No_," Kayla interrupted. "Kemp said a bad word so I'm going to clean his mouth out with soap."

Josh's mother met Kemp's gaze and he widened his eyes a fraction of an inch to express his utter annoyance. Out of the rest of Josh's friends, he was probably the one who could not tolerate Kayla for the life of him. It was probably because he was an only child. The others all had siblings- older, mostly- unless he was talking about Plovert who had the misfortune of being the oldest to three younger sisters… They all knew how to handle the irritating things Little Hotz did.

"Sweetie, I don't think Kemp needs that," Gretchen said in her motherly tone. It was really different from her usual one. "Why don't you stay here and help me make some muffins? Let Kemp go hang out with Josh."

"But Mom-"

"His own mother will deal with him later," Gretchen promised. "Come here, you can add the chocolate chips."

"Can I eat some?"

"If you're a good girl."

Kayla dropped Kemp's hand and ambled over to the counter, hiking herself up on a tall chair. Her little fingers eagerly shoved themselves into the chip bag, sprinkling the handful into the bowl.

"You weren't supposed to do that right now," Gretchen sighed.

"Did I ruin it?"

"No," her mother sounded tired. "We can fix it." She started to take them out one at a time, placing them on a paper towel next to her. "Help me out here."

Kayla started to pick them from the wet mess, sneaking a few in her mouth each time she thought her mother wasn't looking. Kemp tried to hide his smirk- Kayla was actually really entertaining when she wasn't bugging him- and turned away before the muffin-making could get any worse.

He had been to Josh's house numerous times and knew the way to his room with his eyes closed. It took him less than ten seconds to get to his closed door and all he did was knock twice before pushing it open.

Josh was sitting on his bed, still in his pajamas, hands beneath his head, gaze set on the ceiling. He didn't even seem concerned that someone entered his room.

"Hey," Kemp said.

"Hi," Josh murmured. "Why are you here? Isn't it Sunday?"

"Yes," Kemp replied, sitting on Josh's bed. "That's why I'm here. You're supposed to be with us. We always get really shitty food from McDonalds for breakfast…and you just dipped out."

Josh glanced over at him. "Wasn't in the mood for greasy hash browns, sorry."

"That's not the reason and you know it."

"It is, though," Josh told him, looking back at the ceiling again. "I'm not hungry."

"Josh-"

"Kemp, please. I know why you're here and it's not about the food." He sighed, biting his bottom lip. "Just…don't, okay?"

Kemp rubbed his face. "You can't just expect us to ignore this whole thing, can you?"

"Everyone else was pretty content with doing so," Josh retorted. "You're the only one who bothered to come and confront me about it so I'd say they're doing smashing."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Hotz." Kemp glanced out the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, just to make sure no one in Josh's family would overhear their conversation. "Plovert broke up Derrick and Cam's fight just so he could figure out what was wrong with you. We're worried about you, man."

"I'm fine."

"The more you say it, the less I believe it," Kemp told him honestly. "You don't know what you looked like after that party, dude. You looked like someone kicked you in the stomach, killed your dog, and told you bacon was being taken off the market."

"I told you: I was shocked about Massie and Cam, that's all."

"Well, you looked a little more upset about it than Derrick did."

"That's because Derrick's an asshole half the time," Josh snapped. "I just couldn't believe it happened. She never expressed any interest in Cam before so I was just… confused."

Kemp licked his lips, focusing on his friend. Josh looked rather pale and confused, like he said, like there was a lot on his mind. He looked conflicted. "Josh…" he started off slowly. "Do- do you _like_ Massie?"

He was not expecting the snort that came afterwards. "_Like Massie_? Me?" Josh questioned, choking out a laugh. "No. _No_! I know I wanted to be friends with her but… _god no_, I don't _like_ her like that."

"Then… then why are you so… so like this?" Kemp demanded, waving his hand around. "You've been a completely different person since that party, Josh, and I want the old you back. You're not fun. You're paranoid… we were separated for, like, a half hour. What could have happened in that span of time?"

Josh shifted in his bed, kicking the sheets slightly towards Kemp's body. The movement would have masked his next sentence, but Kemp was so fixated on his friend that he managed to hear him utter, "A lot."

"Just tell me," Kemp insisted. "I'm not going to judge you or anything. Like, if you hooked up with some girl, I'm not going to tell Claire. I'll… I don't know what I'll do but… I won't tell her. And if you did something even stupider- I don't know what though- I won't think of you any differently. You're Josh and I'm Kemp and we're friends and-"

"I think I'm gay," Josh interrupted him with and Kemp shut up immediately.

_I think I'm gay. _

_I think I'm gay._

I _think I'm _gay.

Gay.

Kemp swallowed. He never had this experience before. Never had someone told him something like this. His mind went completely blank. He had this whole speech in his head that basically told Josh he didn't have to hide out over something stupid and that his friends would never want him to and he comes out and says something like this?

How does one even react?

"This is why I didn't want to tell you- _any_ of you," Josh went on, talking to the wall instead of Kemp's face. His voice was muffled. "Your reaction says it all even if I can't see you. You don't know what to do because I said that. You won't want to be friends with me because you'll be associated with someone who doesn't like girls. Hell, I'm the most confused here and I won't even have anyone to talk to or anything because all of you will just _drop _me and you don't understand what I'm going through or how I feel about this whole ordeal-"

"Josh, shut up," Kemp ordered, cutting right in. Josh was so shocked by the gruffness in his tone that he looked up, right into Kemp's hard face. "What you're saying right now, it's a load of bullshit and you know it. We- and I'm talking for all of us right now- would never drop you because you don't like girls. Or you think you don't like girls. We'd still want to be friends with you and even if they didn't, _I'd _still want to. Your sexual orientation has nothing to do with you as a person and if others can't handle that, they don't matter."

"You say that now," Josh mumbled.

Kemp scooted up the bed, unsure of what really to do since feelings weren't his forte. Cam was probably the most sensitive out of all of them and Plovert always knew the right thing to say. Fuck, even Derrick could probably lift Josh's spirits and that was only because he was funny. "Dude, I'll say that now and I'll say it a week from now and a month from now and a_ year_ from now. This isn't going to change anything."

"It's going to change a lot of things," Josh told him miserably. "I didn't- I probably shouldn't have- I was drunk so it didn't even-"

Putting his hand on his shoulder would be weird, right? They weren't girls, they didn't need to make physical contact when trying to cheer someone up… Kemp awkwardly placed his hand on top of his own in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. "What happened exactly?"

"I…" Josh stumbled over his words, taking a deep breath. "Well, you guys left and I didn't know what to do so… I went to look for you and I somehow bumped into James Ridder and his friends."

"I hate them," Kemp growled. "Self-righteous bastards."

"You could say that again." Josh ran a hand through his hair. "I… I'm not quite sure what really happened because it was confusing and I was pretty gone, but the next thing I know, Keith Upton is taking money and kissing me and I'm…" His voice broke off. "I'm-"

"Liking it?" Kemp asked.

Josh nodded, cheeks tinged with pink. "Uh, then I left because I was confused and found you guys and uh, this is how I'm reacting to it all."

"You seem to be taking it pretty well," Kemp observed. "Like, you're not being violent or something."

"Violent?"

"I dunno." He shrugged. "How do people react to this?"

Josh sighed. "Well, I'm isolating myself, as you noticed," he pointed out. "I'm sure there's worse."

"What are you going to do about it? You can't just ignore it what with you dating Claire and everything." He scratched the top of his head. "Are you a hundred percent positive you liked kissing… Keith?" It sounded weird to say, foreign on his tongue.

"Yeah."

"It wasn't just like you were shocked or anything?"

"No."

"Oh… okay. Well, then, maybe you should-"

Josh sat up quickly, startling Kemp, who shrunk back into his sweater. His gaze was kind of wide and kind of sad when it settled on him. He was so vulnerable, so _tiny_, that Kemp just wanted to hug him and squeeze him and never let go. "You don't have to pretend to support me or that you understand-"

"No," Kemp said forcefully. "I'm not pretending. I'm going to support you."

"They're just going to associate you with me and think that you're just-"

"So?" Kemp demanded. "Fuck what anyone else thinks."

"Your reputation though-"

"My reputation doesn't mean shit," Kemp told him in all seriousness and he meant every word. "What really matters is that you're okay and that you're going to get through this with all of us there with you. If everyone automatically thinks I swing that way because I'm with you, let them. I'm going to be there with you every step of the way."

Josh bit his lip. "Why?"

"Friends stick together- no matter what."

"Kemp…"

"No, seriously, they do."

Josh opened his mouth to speak again, but Kemp shook his head and plowed on: "Just know that I'm here for you and all that crap. This is making me uncomfortable, I hate feelings and sentimentality, so get off your ass and let's kill some bitches in COD before I turn into a flower or something, okay?"

Josh blinked.

"Oh, shit, is that offensive to you now? I mean, before I- before… oh, fuck, I'm so sorry, I just-"

"Stop babbling," Josh snickered, pushing his friend off the bed. "Come on, let's go fuck up Derrick's saved game."

* * *

><p>Although the ten teens had no idea what was going on in each other's lives, they were all positive of one thing: school that Monday was going to be very, very interesting. In some cases, certain people (Alicia, Josh) didn't want to go at all. Others were psyched (Dylan). Some were dreading seeing certain classmates (Alicia again, Derrick, Claire, Cam). Those remaining- Kemp, Plovert, Massie, Kristen- were pretty neutral, all things considered.<p>

The motions of the morning were relatively normal. Get dressed, eat breakfast, get to class. In Massie's case, the deal with her parents was rather tense although she couldn't figure out why. Her mother avoided her; her father seethed silently in his seat as he buttered his toast. Across the property, Claire's home was rather empty and awkward, filled with the smells of burnt bread and the taste of runny eggs. Alicia spent a good portion of her morning routine examining the marks that dotted her body. Dylan added an extra ten minutes to her hair, making sure it looked bouncy and perfectly curled. Kristen ignored her mother's constant babbling, heaved what felt like twenty pounds of books in her bag, and texted Derrick to remind him of their after school tutoring session.

Closer to Briarwood, Cam was having an early morning conversation with Massie via his iPhone. Josh was taking deep, cleansing breaths and trying to ignore the fact that his whole world got turned upside down that weekend. Kemp was rushing around, trying to find the English essay he completely bullshitted the night before. Plovert was already at school, taking care of a few things for the student government. Derrick's mother was cooing over her son, covering his face with powder despite his very best effort to avoid all sorts of coddling.

Massie gave everyone a ride to school. Claire declined, saying she had a doctor's appointment and would go late.

Kemp picked up Josh on his way to Briarwood just so he would have someone to walk into the school with.

Derrick hopped a ride with his father. Cam walked, even though he normally did so with Derrick.

Everything was different and that very day would only prove it even more.

* * *

><p>"I thought you had the doctor," Massie said, looking up at the clock- only ten minutes had passed since the first bell rang.<p>

Claire shrugged, slipping into her seat by Kristen. "He had to cancel the appointment," she informed her, "something about an emergency sickness with some baby."

"Oh."

"I didn't know doctors' offices were open this early." Alicia looked up from her still life, eyeing Claire rather peculiarly.

"He normally isn't but he was going to make an exception after my dad called," Claire responded, bored. "I missed the one I was supposed to have Saturday."

"Why didn't you come to the game then?" Kristen asked.

"Uh… family things." Claire ducked her head and started working on her own project, ending any further conversation. She didn't speak after that.

It was silent for a while, the five girls bent over huge pieces of paper and surrounded by every color oil pastel the art teacher possessed. This time around, no boys were looking at them like they were things to be displayed. In fact, they were hardly staring at them in general. If they were they were looking at Alicia, and that was pretty normal, even if she shifted a lot.

"So," Massie started, breaking the (awkward) silence. "Since we weren't together at all this weekend, tell me what happened with you guys."

It took a beat for them to respond and when they did, it was Dylan who went first.

"I didn't really leave my house all weekend. I felt nauseous until last night, to be honest," she began, "but at the party, I was with this boy- and no, we didn't do anything, he only tried to keep me from dying- and he apparently got my number and texted me."

"Ooh," Alicia seemed intrigued. "Who was it? How long was the conversation? Is he cute?"

"Well, he texted me the next morning and we've been talking on and off for the past two days- his name is Landon."

"Landon?"

"Who names their kid_ Landon_?"

"Landon Crane?" Alicia questioned, shading a portion of her page darker with a blue pastel.

Dylan nodded. "Do you know him?"

"I met him at the charity gala I went to that night," Alicia commented idly. "He's pretty cute."

Dylan grinned sheepishly. "I hate to ask, but what does he look like? I don't really remember. At all."

Alicia giggled. "Uh, dark hair, blue, _blue_ eyes, nice cheekbones. Pretty jawline… kind of like Zac Efron but not really since no one can look like _that_."

"Sounds like a winner," Massie added. "What are you gonna do about it?"

The redhead shrugged. "We haven't gotten past the 'hey, I'm bored, what's up' phase yet so I don't know where it's going to go," she admitted. "But hopefully it'll turn into something else."

"We're all rooting for you," Kristen said encouragingly.

Massie nodded. "You deserve it. Especially after everything that's happened with Kemp and Plovert." She turned towards Alicia. "What about you? How was your weekend?"

The Latina flipped her hair over her shoulder, sending the dark curls tumbling down her back. "It was okay. I woke up pretty hungover and then had to get ready for that gala, which was super boring."

"Has Danny talked to you since the Big Hookup?" Kristen questioned, her hand steady as she sketched the- yet again- bowl of fruit in front of her.

Alicia grasped her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling slightly. She took a second to finish her coloring in and responded with, "Yeah, of course. We've been texting since around three on Saturday."

"Are you guys going to, like, date or something soon?"

"Uh, I don't think so," Alicia answered, eyes trained on her project. "Maybe. I don't know if he's into that kind of thing or not. I don't know if I want to be tied down."

"But you liked him a lot," Dylan pointed out. "I'm sure it wouldn't hurt."

"Maybe, I dunno," Alicia shrugged. "What about you, Mass? Any development on the Cam front?"

And this time it was Massie's turn to blush even though she tried to hide it. "Well, me and Kris went to the game on Saturday and they won," she said.

Kristen nodded. "But besides that, Cam personally invited her to go to Slice of Heaven afterwards."

"He invited you too," Massie shot back.

"I was just trying to make it dramatic and romantic," Kristen huffed, placing a hand on her heart.

Dylan snorted.

"And we went or whatever and then he walked me home."

"_He walked you home_?" Alicia squealed, looking up for the first time. "Oh my god- what happened?"

"She wouldn't even tell _me_ and I think I have a right to know considering everything we went through that day together." Kristen grinned at her.

Massie rolled her eyes. "We went to a soccer game together, Kristen. It's not like we got shot at."

"Still, you're supposed to tell me these things."

"And _me_," Alicia interjected passionately. "I'm your best friend forever, remember? You've kept this a secret from me for a whole day! Come _on_, girl."

Dylan wrinkled her nose. "I thought we were _all _best friends forever…"

"We are." Alicia waved her off. "Spill, Massie. I want to know all the dirty details."

"There was nothing dirty about it," the brunette leader told her. "He walked me home, we talked… he kissed me again."

Claire casually glanced over at her friend, frowning slightly. Alicia clapped once, excited for this gossip. Kristen and Dylan shared a look.

"He did?" Alicia asked. "Aw!"

"Are _you_ going to date him?" Dylan asked.

"We just kissed, it doesn't mean anything."

"You kissed twice," Alicia pointed out. "That could lead to something."

Massie shrugged, eyeing the clock. "Right now, he's just someone I can kiss when I want to. We didn't make anything official, if that's what you're wondering. Like I said before, I don't want to be tied to anyone right now. I have a school to rule."

* * *

><p>Josh had been on edge all morning. He couldn't help it. Everywhere he turned, he felt as if everyone were whispering about him when in reality they were discussing the next test or whatever that hot teacher was wearing. It helped a little that Kemp was there with him, that someone knew of his worries. It was kind of weird that Kemp was the one who went to him rather than Plovert, considering Kemp was more of a 'speak now, worry about consequences later' type of guy.<p>

He guessed it made it all the more meaningful that Kemp, the kid who said things like _that's so gay_ and called people faggots for no reason, was behind him a hundred percent. Maybe something had changed in him. Josh didn't care what it was, he was just happy to have someone with him.

He also, for the life of him, didn't understand what was going on inside of him. Technically, he had cheated on Claire- and they hadn't spoken in quite some time. Their relationship was starting to get rocky at best. If he were telling the truth, it was always kind of shaky- the two of them were probably never compatible even if he wanted them to be. Claire was a girl- a _great_ girl- and she needed someone who wasn't questioning his sexuality.

Josh wasn't the right person for her and she wasn't the right person for him. When it came down to it- if he really thought hard about it- she probably wasn't a good match for any of these boys, anyone in Westchester. She didn't click here, like the Pretty Committee and other girls. She was still true to her Floridian roots, still good-natured and easygoing. The boys wanted to be friends with her more than they wanted to date her.

Or maybe she wasn't. Josh didn't know. He was too confused to think about anything other than his confusing relationships with everyone. He and Claire? They were probably the worst couple in history, worse than he and Alicia were (could have been).

His history with girls was awful. He never really expressed any interest in any of them, shoved into Alicia's waiting arms by his friends when she cooed and batted her eyes at him. She was the hottest girl at OCD- debatable, though; she was only attractive because of her chest size- and if she liked him, he was practically a godsend. But that didn't last. And neither did Claire, the complete opposite of Alicia…

Was he always gay? Had he never noticed it before? He never looked at boys the way his friends looked at girls, but he never looked at girls that way either. Did this make him any different?

No, of course not. He was still the same Josh Hotz that got expelled from Hotchkiss for being an asshole. He was still the same Josh Hotz that liked soccer and the Yankees and wore hats almost every day of his life. Nothing changed and yet _everything _did.

If what happened to him at that party, if he really was gay, that meant so many things were altered. People would look at him differently. Treat him differently. He could only imagine their reactions and because of that, he wished so, so, _so_ much that he wasn't gay.

He was just going through an identity crisis. He was probably just confused with his relationship with Claire. It _was_ going absolutely nowhere… But how could he tell Kemp was sure if he really wasn't? Maybe he was wrong. He probably was. Kemp… Kemp would understand, right? Of course he would; friends stick together or whatever…

But how could Kemp understand if even Josh couldn't?

"Are you okay?"

Josh blinked, focusing on Massie's form, sitting next to him. He hadn't realized he was staring at her whilst he was thinking but he guessed he was. "Uh, yeah," he replied, clearing his throat. "You look nice today."

Massie rolled her eyes. "I'm wearing exactly what you are."

"Your hair," he elaborated. "I like it."

She flicked him again, like she normally did when he complimented her. "It's nothing special."

"We're friends, I can tell you when I like your hair," Josh reminded her. "How's life treating you?"

"Is that a codename for 'What happened with you and Cam'?"

Josh grinned cheekily, glad for the distraction from his depressing, confusing thoughts. "It might be."

"Nothing, really," she admitted, biting her lip. "I'm sure he would've told you…"

"Nah," Josh shook his head. "I haven't seen him since Saturday and he would've told Derrick first out of all of us if…" His voice trailed off and he realized that Massie didn't know the situation between the two friends (ex-friends?).

Massie wrinkled her nose. "If?" she prompted.

"Uh, he would've told Derrick before us if it were important, you know?" Josh told her, which actually was true. Cam and Derrick were the ultimate bromance. It was like they were practically dating and no girl ever came between them…until Massie came along. She came between them once before and now she was doing it again. Both times, she had no idea what she was doing.

"That makes sense," she murmured. "They _are_ best friends."

"Yeah," Josh agreed half-heartedly. "Best friends." He shook himself out, watching her doodle in the corner of her notebook, and urged her to tell him the dirty details.

"You sound just like Alicia," Massie blanched, "but nothing really happened. He just kissed me again."

"Sounds so romantic."

"It wasn't really."

"Are you two a thing now?"

"Uh…we haven't talked about it, so I don't know." Massie scribbled out a few cubes on her page, coloring them in and blacking them out.

"But you _have_ talked since then, right?" Josh would hate it if Cam was only kissing her when he felt like it and not trying to keep up a relationship or anything. That wasn't really like him, but who knew these days? Josh didn't even know himself. Everyone else could change too.

Massie nodded. "We texted this morning."

"Early morning convos?" Josh inquired. "Scandalous."

"You are _such_ a dork."

"You know you love me."

"Maybe."

"Hey, I'm like your best friend ever."

She snorted. "I have four of those already, kid."

"I'm better than all of them."

"I wouldn't say that…"

Josh grinned. "That's okay. I know you're thinking it."

* * *

><p>Derrick's day was getting significantly worse as time went on. First, he had to wake up at the crack of dawn- because Cam was a shithead and didn't want to deal with him until he "calmed down"- to go to school with his father. He spent the early morning and most of first period practicing his goal saving<em> again<em> to be ridiculed.

He really wished his father would drop the whole high school coach act. He had a perfectly good job in a perfectly good office far, _far_ away from Briarwood, but the perks of being the boss gave him the opportunity to give all of the work to his employees and spend most of his time (i.e. soccer season) at a school for spoiled, rich boys (and five girls).

Then, he had a pop quiz in chemistry that even Kristen hadn't known about, so he failed that like it was his _job_. And to top it off like a cherry on a sundae, he happened to be in the same hallway as Cam Fisher and Massie Block and wanted nothing more than to throw up all over the place- preferably on Cam's stupid hair and Massie's stupid shoes.

They were disgusting people. She didn't deserve to smile like that. He wasn't allowed to even _look_ in her direction that way. What had Derrick done that warranted such torture? He wasn't a bad person. He was only a confused soon-to-be-sixteen year old boy who had no idea what was going on with his own body half the time. He was going to slowly kill himself if he had to experience The Cam and Massie Show for the rest of high school.

(And maybe cry but that wasn't very manly.)

At lunch, he was more than pleased when he arrived before Traitor Numero Uno and threw himself on a chair across from Hotz and next to Plov.

"How has your day been?" Josh questioned, glancing around the room. "Have you seen Kemp?"

"Shitty and no." Derrick didn't even want to eat.

"Why? What's up?" Plovert asked him, his fatherly tone coming out unintentionally. "And Josh, Kemp was held after class in English for something."

Josh visibly relaxed (okay, weird) and turned his attention to Derrick. "What happened that made your day shitty?"

"Besides the early morning soccer training and my chem pop quiz?" The blonde huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and then immediately regretted the ferocity of his movements. He was still a little sore. "Massie and Cam have been flaunting their whatever the fuck they're doing with each other everywhere they go."

Plovert winced. "I'm sure they haven't been doing it on purpose."

"If it's any consolation, she told me they're nothing." Josh reached over and patted his arm sympathetically. Derrick jerked out of the way. "That's gotta make you feel a _little_ better."

He rolled his eyes, ignoring their looks. He didn't need their pity (maybe he did but shh). He could handle this. So what if she was practically perfect in every single way? She wasn't the _only _girl in the world. There were others. It wasn't like they were going to get married or anything. It was just a stupid crush on a stupid girl who didn't fucking like him. At all. Period. End of discussion.

But then he made the mistake of glancing over at her table and his heart sunk into his stomach for what felt like the fifteenth time that hour. "Right," he muttered angrily, "they're _nothing_."

"What? They are!" Josh protested. "I heard her say that-"

"If they're nothing, why is he sitting with _her_ and not_ us_?"

Both Josh and Plovert whipped around to look at the Pretty Committee's table where, yes, Cam was sitting. There he was in all of his stupid glory with the other girls- though Claire was noticeably absent- acting as if he were always a part of their small group. Traitor.

"Weird," Josh commented.

"He's not, like, tied to us," Plovert tried.

"I just think it's weird that someone who is _nothing_ to someone else is at their table and Josh's own girlfriend doesn't even sit with us."

Josh bit his lip. "You know you guys make her uncomfortable."

"Oh, come on, we're not _that _bad."

"Really?" Josh asked. "You isolate her, act like you talk about her, and then completely disregard anything she ever says."

Derrick shrugged. "I don't really like her, to be honest."

"Derrick-"

"Seriously, Chris?" the blonde interrupted, glancing over at his shaggy-haired friend. "You were a complete asshole to her to so don't try to reprimand me."

"I wasn't _reprimanding_ you, I was just going to tell you to be _nice_ about your opinions considering her boyfriend is right-"

Josh shook his head, placing a hand on Plovert's. "It's okay. I don't really think I-"

Before he could finish his sentence- and Derrick was really interested in this one- Kemp plopped down next to him, offered him a grin, and tossed his backpack by his feet. "Hey, guys, what'd I miss?"

"Derrick's heart is broken-"

"-is not-"

"-and he doesn't like Claire," Plovert supplied, ignoring the star goalie's protest.

Kemp quirked an eyebrow. "I missed confession time?"

"No," Derrick mumbled, glancing around the room again. He cleverly avoided _that _corner. "But in case you're wondering, Fish is over with Blo- _Massie_." He cleared his throat awkwardly and in a fleeting attempt to avoid Kemp's pitying look- Kemp's was the worst out of all of them- he forgot all about his mental note to steer clear of anything PC and Cam.

There he was.

There she was.

And then there she was kissing his cheek (what the hell, man) and Derrick's heart clenched (so _un_manly) painfully in his chest. His mind was whirling at what felt like a thousand miles a minute; he hardly heard his friends' conversation. Not that he cared, really, it was probably useless and he was so sore and uncomfortable.

A bunch of thoughts resounded in the front of the whirlwind of his mind- test on Thursday, tutoring with Kristen after school, game next Wednesday, there are other girls… there are other girls…

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts. _There are other girls_. There. Are. Other. Girls.

Which one would take his mind off of things this time?

(Allie-Rose Singer.)

* * *

><p>Chris hated that his off period was spent doing meticulous tasks for the student government. He thought he had escaped being the group's lackey now that he was a sophomore, but apparently they liked his work ethic <em>so much<em> he was stuck shoving announcements in mailboxes and typing up letters for teachers to look over when they had spare time.

To think that eventually, when the time came to vote for president, he would become the president of their class…and he was stuck running various errands for a bunch of over-privileged juniors and seniors. Cool.

He could be spending this time studying for his big honors chemistry test or doing the AP World reading. God only knew he wouldn't do it when he got home and when was there a better time? He would never be around absolutely nothing remotely exciting to do until his next off period in the morning.

Did Mr. Shields even need this note right now? Chris would read it if he wasn't worried about breaking the seal on the envelope. Did the office ladies need the copy of the next day's announcements right this very second? It wasn't anything new: soccer practice as usual despite the weather conditions (they never got a break), Homecoming at the end of the month, September twenty-sixth… class elections the day before, announced at the pep rally for the football game. They've been hearing these all month. No one needed the reminder _now_.

Once he got to the office, though, and dropped these things off, he'd be able to sneak away to the library. He'd probably read the textbook chapter before anything else- or start it. It was about thirty pages long and Hanson really expected them to get it all done in one day for a 'reading check' the next time they had class.

Someone _please_ remind him as to why he took such hard classes this year.

(Oh, that's right: hard classes, good grades, good resume, good college.)

His hand was just on the doorknob, his other waving slightly to Linda at the back of the room, when he heard it. The annoying, obnoxious, slighty shady voice of his cousin, Danny.

No one knew they were cousins right off the bat. There were no distinct similarities in their appearances or personalities. Danny was your typical American jock: just passing, girls fawning, deep voice, muscular, plays numerous sports. Chris, on the other hand, was a combination of two types of people that normally didn't interact in a Hollywood film about high school (unless, of course, it was an epic love story): geek and jock. He played soccer, ran spring track, was in the National Honor Society, took all AP and honors classes…

Everyone knew they were related because everyone knew their mothers- twin sisters who couldn't stand to be apart. Cassandra and Hannah Grimer (now Plovert and Robbins respectively) were very well-known around Westchester for their contributions to many fundraisers and charities. They, like everyone else, loved to broadcast their children's accomplishments, but they always managed to speak of Chris and Danny as if they were a package deal.

And they weren't.

Chris didn't really like Danny. He was sneaky and manipulative; they pretended to get along for the most part- appearances were _everything_- but they would rather be seas apart from each other if it were possible. It absolutely sucked that they were going to the same school and living in the same town.

Regardless of his animosity towards his cousin, Chris couldn't help but eavesdrop on his conversation. He liked to be in the know when it came to Danny.

"-dude, she was _good_ for a virgin." That was definitely his voice.

"How is that possible?" Friend One.

Friend Two, a distinctly different tone: "Are you sure she's never done it before? She's not a born-again?"

"She was tight as hell," Danny replied, "and she looked uncomfortable…but she was good."

"Maybe I should hop on that."

"I heard she's already gotten offers."

Danny's laugh was ugly. "I don't understand that. She was good, yeah, but for a virgin and a sophomore. She wasn't _great_."

Chris' hand dropped from the knob. He turned quickly, trying to find the source of the voices, trying to wrap his head around the subject of their conversation. The only sophomore he knew that Danny was interested in was Alicia but surely…

"I'd like to see for myself," his friend snickered. "Wanna give me her number?"

He couldn't see his cousin but he started reciting some numbers, numbers Chris thought he recognized. It had been so long since he contacted Alicia via her phone and even longer since he and the guys got her number. If only he could-

"How do you spell her name again?"

"A-l-i-c-i-a space R-i-v-e-r-a."

Chris' blood went cold.

Forgetting all about the task at hand, he stalked through the halls, his feet moving on their own accord as if they knew where Danny and Company had been the entire time.

Clad in the usual uniform, Danny looked positively gleeful and his friends looked like disgusting, perverted minions. Nothing out of the ordinary. Chris vaguely wondered what his face looked like because he was fucking _seething_ but could hardly be bothered with expressions at the moment. Danny was a fucking prick.

"Oh, hey, little cuz," the older boy greeted with a half-wave. "What's gotten you to roam the halls? Skipping class finally?"

"Did you really sleep with Alicia?" Forget small talk. Chris wanted to get straight to the point.

Danny grinned. "Word gets around fast, huh?" He shared a triumphant look with his buddy to the right. "I did, in fact. If you wanted to tap that, I wouldn't recommend it. She needs a little more experience to be a freak in the bed."

Chris chose to ignore his blatant disrespect for women and breathed deeply through his nose. "So you did?"

"He just said he did," Friend Two snapped back. "Did you pay attention or?"

"I _did_ pay attention, _thanks_," Chris spat, "and I'm talking to Danny, not you."

"There's no need for this attitude, man." His cousin tried to make peace, but his attempts failed drastically due to the look on his face. _Douchebag_. "I'm sorry I got to your girl before you. I mean, you could have told me but she literally _threw_ herself at me…"

"I'm sorry, _threw herself at you_?" Chris echoed, snorting. He fisted the papers in his hand. "That doesn't sound like Alicia Rivera to me."

"Obviously you don't know her very well," Friend One retorted. Chris ignored him.

Danny shrugged nonchalantly. "She practically begged for it. Who am to say no to a woman who wants it?"

"When?"

"Pardon?"

"_When_ did this happen?"

"The party Friday night, where else?"

Chris bit his lip so hard he could taste the copper tang of blood. Opening his mouth after a second or two of anger control, he hissed: "She was drunk as hell, man, and you literally took advantage of her!"

"I was drunk, too, Chris," Danny shot back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"That gives you no right to do something like that!" Chris exclaimed loudly, his voice borderline cracking in regards to his anger. "She wasn't in the right state of mind to understand what was going on!"

Again, Danny acted like it wasn't such an important thing to take a girl's virginity. It was, no matter what. To some girls, it was something special. Chris knew this. Chris had younger sisters. Chris would _never _let this happen to them. Chris would never let this happen to anyone, even a girl he hadn't spoken to- and legitimately hated- for three months or so.

"Maybe that'll teach her not to play with big boys next time," Danny said.

And that was when Chris punched him in the jaw.

* * *

><p>"Todd," Claire snapped, pushing herself to race through the halls to catch up with her younger brother. Many other boys looked at her like she was crazy, shoving her back for shouldering them accidentally. She didn't let their sour moods keep her from what she wanted and propelled herself next to her sibling before he turned the corner. "<em>Todd.<em> Talk to me."

It hadn't been that long since their mother up and left, but it seemed as if the whole family dynamic fell apart in the short time span. Jay was working constantly, hardly home. When he was, he tried to be the ultimate parent, but it was force and half-hearted, and he ended up spending more time alone in the study than with his two children. Claire had tried to reach out to Todd, who had taken Judi's departure the hardest, but hadn't been able to get anywhere. He ignored her attempts to act like an anchor, snapped at her, and turned away at her offers to go grab some ice cream.

At school, he wouldn't be able to shake her _that_ easily.

"Come on," she insisted. "You can't ignore me forever."

"I can't?" Todd snapped, turning on his heel. His eyes flashed. "I don't know what you did to her, but it's _your_ fault Mom left. If you hadn't been such an idiot, she'd probably still be here and _happy_."

"This is _not_ my fault-"

"It is, though!" Todd hissed. "Do you realize what you did? You were unhappy and then you weren't and then you were and then you weren't- you took this family on such a rollercoaster and obviously Mom had enough of it if she wanted to leave, if she wanted _all of us_ to leave."

"All we need to do is help Dad out, Todd. You don't have to like me but-"

"I don't like you, Claire. I told you that."

"But you said-"

Todd shook his head. "I don't know how I feel about you right now. You're my sister, I know that, but you caused a lot of shit."

"You're no angel either," she retorted.

"I never said I was," Todd murmured, coming to a stop at a door. Claire figured it was his next class. "You have this habit of believing you don't do anything wrong. Newsflash, Claire: you do. And that's why you're never happy. You can't accept your own faults."

Without a backwards glance, he pushed his way into the classroom, leaving his sister to stand there in the crowded hall, wondering when her brother managed to get so insightful.


	19. eighteen

i like you guys (:

thanks for the reviews! i'm kinda upset today so i figured i would post this earlier than usual. i was supposed to present my big senior project today but my teacher was out sick so i don't know when i'm going and school ends friday... /:

* * *

><p>Woodshop was rather lonely without Derrick, Alicia realized, humming to herself as she watched some sort of video on their latest project. She didn't know what it was; she was too busy wondering where her sort of companion had gone. She had seen him before, had even said hello in the halls… Did he get sick or something?<p>

She didn't really know him all that well, couldn't determine any of his actions, but he just didn't seem like the type of guy to skive out on classes. Especially this one, since Alicia needed a lot of help and he was the only one willing to do her projects for her.

In any other circumstance, she'd probably text him, but she didn't know if that was pushing it. They weren't really friends. Massie and Kristen were closer to some sort of relationship with those boys than she was. She was probably the farthest. Still… it wouldn't hurt to try to contact him, right? After all, the bonds a person creates in class go very, very far.

Eyeing the teacher- an old man Alicia constantly referred to as 'cute'- she slid her phone on to her lap. Lately, she had been getting an onslaught of messages from unnamed boys in regards to her sleeping with Danny. It was rather annoying and embarrassing, really, but she kept a level head about it and ignored them all.

She deleted the three new ones she had waiting for her, not even bothering to read them, and composed a new text. _Why aren't you in woodshop?_ it said with a sad face. Maybe he'd answer. Maybe he wouldn't. It didn't really matter in the long run. She was uncomfortable alone. Uncomfortable in general because of recent events.

Too soon, the bell rang and her teacher called out to them as they left: "I hope you remember the contents of the video! We will be producing the same thing as they did!"

Alicia winced slightly. She hadn't paid attention at all and Derrick hadn't been there… tomorrow was going to be quite the day.

The hallway was always a nightmare to get through. Unlike OCD, people didn't part because Alicia was popular. Here, she was practically a nobody, something that was hard to wrap her head around, and most of the boys didn't like her interference in their school. She didn't blame them. She didn't like it that much either. If she had to use the bathroom, she had to go all the way to the nurse's office because the school board wouldn't make 'accommodations for a small number of new students, no matter the gender'. It was absolutely ridiculous.

At least she only had one class left. This day was long and tedious and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with a cup of tea. The attention from boys was unwanted, but so obvious; she wondered how long it would be before the news of her sleeping with Danny got to the Pretty Committee. It wasn't her intention to keep it a secret from them however it was hard to actually tell them. She wasn't proud of her actions and she knew they wouldn't be proud either. Without having to try, she could picture their expressions in her mind: Massie's disapproving, Kristen's upset, Dylan's worrying, and Claire's _I told you so_.

She just hoped she had enough time to somehow turn the whole thing around, to make a joke of it, before her friends were suddenly knowledgeable of her regretful experience.

Sometimes, she had flashbacks from the night even though she didn't really remember it. She would be sitting in class or trying to do things around the house or at dance class and she'd remember the way he held her and the sting she felt when the whole thing was actually happening. If only she had known he was going to do that to her… she probably wouldn't have played so coy. Probably wouldn't have allowed him to give her all that alcohol. She probably wouldn't have gone to that party, spent the night at Massie's as usual…

With a deep breath, Alicia slipped into her seat for her remaining class period and rubbed her temples. Thinking about all of this made her feel awful and violated. This wasn't what she expected, but Briarwood was full of surprises, apparently.

In her pocket, her phone vibrated. Yet again she made sure the teacher wasn't looking and slowly pulled it out, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she bent her head.

**Derrick**: sorry /: I was busy, what'd we do?

* * *

><p>"<em>I cannot believe you two<em>!"

Chris stared stoically ahead, not even batting an eye when the nurse- a nice woman who insisted they call her Paula- pressed cool cloths to his face. He looked past Dean Don's face, ignored Danny's presence, and pretended that Coach Harrington wasn't in the room as well.

"_Brawling_ in the _hallway_!" his principal roared. "I should suspend you both for rowdy behavior!"

"_Both_?" Danny yelped. "This wasn't my fault. He came at me!"

Chris rolled his eyes but said nothing. Paula tutted next to him, wiping the dried blood from the cut Danny's class ring made upon his face.

"Is this true, Mr. Plovert?"

He let his gaze travel slowly to Dean Don, blinking twice. His superior looked so disappointed but Chris quite frankly couldn't give two shits about how other people were feeling towards his actions. Danny was a shitbag and that was it.

"I threw the first punch, if that's what you're asking."

"Unprovoked!" Danny added fiercely.

Chris turned his head so quickly Paula had no time to move her hands. "Unprovoked?" he reiterated. "Are you aware of what you said to me?"

"I didn't say anything-"

Coach Harrington's voice cut through the older boy's, cold and calculating: "What did he say, Plovert?"

"He was bragging with his friends over sleeping with a girl," Chris explained. So what if he got his cousin in trouble? He didn't care.

"So you punched him because you liked her?" Coach Harrington asked, scoffing slightly.

"No," Chris bit out. "I punched him because he was talking about her as if she were nothing but a piece of meat, a prize, when she really isn't."

Dean Don looked over at Danny. "Is this true, Mr. Robbins? Were you degrading women? You know how I feel about that…"

"Yeah, yeah, you're all for women's rights. You proved that by allowing _those _girls to walk our halls-"

"In case you forgot, one of _those girls_ was the only you slept with," Chris snarled. Paula taped a piece of gauze to his forehead and meandered around him to check up on Danny. He was the worse out of the two; Chris was very proud to admit that.

Danny shrugged. "So? They don't belong here."

"And where do they belong?"

"Back at OCD-"

Their principal slammed his hands down on his desk, startling the pair. "Those five girls are _allowed_ to be here. I do not appreciate the fact that you are saying otherwise, Mr. Robbins."

Danny remained silent.

Chris glared at him, still reeling from the fact that he had actually punched his cousin in the face. _In the face_. The pretty-boy look was rather awkward now, what with the black and blue on his cheek and the crooked nose. There was something about these boys and beating each other up these days- there must be something in the air.

Honestly, he had no idea why he reacted the way he did. He and Alicia never interacted; she wasn't special to him or anything. He just… got so _angry_ that Danny would treat someone like that. Girls were not meant for display or used when boys wanted something from them. They were real people. They had feelings and Chris hated it when anyone's feelings were hurt like that or they were used for someone else's enjoyment. It didn't matter that it was Alicia. It could have been anyone else and he would've punched Danny for them.

After all, he had a lot of hatred inside of him for his cousin.

"Plovert, Robbins: I'm disappointed in the two of you," Coach Harrington said gruffly, dark gaze settling on the two of them. "You know that the sports contract outlines rowdy behavior…"

He continued to talk on and on, but Chris was hardly paying attention. He was more concerned over the fact that his soccer coach was even _there_. Sure, he found the two kicking the crap out of each other in the middle of the hallway, but he didn't have to reprimand him. That was Dean Don's job. If Dean Don were the only one in the room right now- besides Paula- they would've been out of here with a stern warning. Derrick's dad was practically Satan when it came to abiding the rules.

And yes, the "sports contract" they all had to sign said something about 'no drinking, no drugs, no irresponsible behavior including but not limited to: fighting, vandalism, etc, etc' but who really followed that? The entire soccer team went to a huge booze fest last Friday and came away unscathed for the most part. Someone on the team was taking steroids. Just because Chris threw his fist right into Danny's jaw did not mean James Harrington should be telling him wrong versus right.

"I do not tolerate fighting of any kind in this school regardless of the contract," the principal added after the coach paused in speaking. Chris shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and watched him curiously. "I though the addition of Miss Block and friends would be good for you all and I made them promise they wouldn't cause any problems but it seems they have-"

Rudely, Chris interrupted: "It wasn't their fault, sir. I reacted in the wrong way; I'm sorry about that."

"I understand where you're coming from Chris," Dean Don murmured, "but that does not mean I condone your actions. I would rather you had talked it out civilly or even came to a guidance counselor. Someone could have helped you two through this."

Danny snorted, but said nothing. Chris knew what he was thinking though. The two of them would never have been able to 'sort this' in the way Dean Don was describing. Anyone in their family could tell you that. From the moment they could walk and use their arms, they had been dealing with problems physically.

"Considering the two of you have not gotten into _serious_ trouble"- there was a noticeable look in Danny's direction (he was not an angel in the slightest)- "I'm going to let you off with a warning-"

"So we're not in trouble?" Danny demanded, lips quirking.

Dean Don raised his eyebrows. "If you had let me finish…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I'm giving you a warning of three days of detention and you are going to be sitting out of the next soccer game. Is that-"

Before he could finish, Coach Harrington's voice yet again pierced the air. This time, it made Chris' skin crawl. He had a very bad feeling about this…

"Robbins, you'll be sitting out one game. Plovert… you'll be out for the whole season."

"_What_?" Chris shouted. He hadn't meant to get that loud but- _what_?

"Now, James, I don't think that's necessary…"

The principal's words fell on deaf ears. James stalked over to stand in front of the two boys, looking more menacing than ever. "I don't tolerate violence in a team at all, boys. You know that. There is no way we can get to victory if we are constantly bickering with each other."

"We wouldn't bring it to the field," Chris protested. In the back of his mind, he noticed that Danny wasn't saying a word in his defense. Douchebag. "It's just a stupid fight. It's over."

"How can I be so sure about that, Plovert? Lately, everyone's been coming into practice with bruises and ill spirits. I can't have that, don't you get it? We're a winning team and a winning team does not have players with bad history playing with each other." The coach licked his lips, his tongue darting out of his mouth like a lizard. "And quite honestly, I can't rid of the two of you."

"So get rid of _him_!" Chris snapped, waving his hand in Danny's direction. "He's not even that _good_."

"He's better than you."

"_Better than me_?" the younger boy hissed. "He loses the ball, ends up _giving_ it to the opposing team… I actually play!"

"You didn't contribute to the game on Saturday," Coach Harrington said harshly. "I watched you. I watched the tapes. You didn't score a goal or defend well-"

"Neither did he!"

"He _tried_ and that's all I ask of any of you," his coach snarled. Dean Don opened his mouth, but the coach shot him the dirtiest look and he shut up instantly. How did he have that effect on the man that _ran_ the school? "But you can't seem to respect my wishes, Plovert."

"Are you serious right now? I've done everything you've ever asked! I've come to morning practices at five thirty in the morning. I've given up free time to devote to learning new plays… I'm not a bad player, I'm a crucial member of the team!"

"Not anymore, Plovert." Coach Harrington walked around him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and muttered: "I want the uniform in my office by the time school is over today."

Chris made no move to respond, no move to get out of his chair, even after he was dismissed. He heard Danny's gloating, knew he and the coach were out of the room, and felt Dean Don's worried gaze on him. When asked if he was alright, he said he would live, and finally pushed himself up and out of the cramped space.

He never thought this would happen to him. Soccer had been a part of his life for years now. His coach was one of his best friends' _dad_. Surely he wouldn't have kicked him off like that… but James Harrington didn't play favorites. He didn't like him just because he was his son's friend. Derrick's father did things differently- he said he treated everyone equal, but he didn't really. He was hard on his own flesh and blood. He kicked off valuable players and kept shitty ones. There was something wrong with his head and Chris knew it was associated with the accident that ruined his professional soccer career.

While he could sympathize with his coach's misery in not being able to follow his dreams, he was still pissed as hell that he was the one to get booted from the team.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

* * *

><p>Kristen tapped her pen against her textbook, frowning as she read the words on the page. She had been on and off skimming through the AP World assignment all day; she was positive she had no idea what was actually being said. It was all just letters on a page to her, not ideas or history or anything of the sort. If what her teacher said was true, she'd have a quiz tomorrow and she'd fail drastically- her mother would not be pleased.<p>

She felt like ripping all of her hair out. There was so much stress in her life, so much that she didn't _want_ to do. She didn't really mind the whole tutoring thing, but she didn't really want to do it. Todd was proving to be successful, getting a B plus on his last math test all on his own. That Devon kid hardly needed any help, was just rusty with a few mini subjects, and came to her when he was really confused- which was rare as of late. Derrick, on the other hand, needed the most help. He was awful at chemistry…

…and was currently late. Again.

Not that Kristen minded, really. It gave her time to finish her homework so she could have a few hours of relaxation time at home before her mother returned from work and made her study more. But it was when she was turning the page from twenty-eight to twenty-nine that her eyes caught Derrick's whilst he maneuvered his way through the number of people inhabiting the library.

She only had two pages left- couldn't he have been a little later?

Still, Kristen closed her book and watched him as he approached. He looked rather disheveled: his hair messy on his head, falling into his eyes more than usual. His shirt was wrinkled with half of it tucked and half out of his pants. Even his tie was loosened…

"You clean up well," she noted.

He slid into a chair silently, books in front of him like usual. Always prepared. With two shakes and a comb through, he fixed his hair and started to make his clothes look more presentable. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Lost track of time."

"And you still have lip gloss on your mouth," she pointed out. And he did- he looked extra sparkly today.

Cheeks reddening, he used the back of his hand to rub at his lips, removing the girlish product, except he still shimmered when he turned his head at certain angles.

"Who was the lucky lady?" Kristen asked, hoping to make some conversation. Last time, he was so worried about her social life. She thought she could return the favor. It was only fair.

"Allie," he replied easily, slipping back into the cool persona he was known for. It was rare to see him out of his element. He was always so collected. Like Massie.

She raised an eyebrow. "Singer?"

He nodded.

"When did you have time to see her?"

"Cut my last two classes. Met up with her over at OCD." He shrugged. "She's very handsy."

Kristen frowned. "I didn't need to know that, thank you."

"My pleasure."

"I didn't know you liked her."

"You don't know a lot about me," Derrick rebutted, "but yeah, she's pretty cute."

Kristen reached over to take his notebook, flipping through it to see what he had been learning in class. She knew he had a pop quiz today, his teacher told her, and she knew he didn't do so well because he didn't know it was going to happen. She had asked if the other chemistry teacher could warn her in advance so she could get him prepared, but she hadn't replied to her email yet. Hopefully she would say something positive.

She could feel him watching her and she cleared her throat. "Are you two dating or something?"

"I don't like to do that sort of thing, really," he told her honestly, leaning back in his chair. "Wastes time."

_You did it with Massie_, she thought idly, eyes scanning his latest page of notes. Periodic table… hard to memorize fully but easy to get the gist of…

"You're the type of guy to hit it and quit it then?"

She met his gaze and something flashed in his but was quickly replaced by the cocky look she knew so well. "Something like that," he murmured.

"Will you see her again?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Probably not," he admitted sheepishly, his nose wrinkling slightly with his confession. "Unless I really want to…and there are a bunch of girls I can contact instead."

"Ew." Kristen's upper lip curled in disgust.

Derrick grinned at her, fixing his hair yet again. "Don't hate my methods."

"Just don't pick any grimey girls," she warned. "That would be the worst. You might get an STD or something."

"Have you talked to Ridder lately?"

"No."

"Will you talk to him any time soon?"

"No."

"Then we have ourselves a deal, Gregory." He held his hand out for her to shake. "But I have a question. What classifies a girl as 'grimey'?"

Kristen's cackle was so loud the librarian shushed her from her spot at her desk all the way across the room.

* * *

><p>Claire's phone buzzed for the third time. Looking down at the name that appeared, she hit 'ignore' and settled herself back in the leather seat of Skye's car. She hadn't known the junior could drive on her own; she had always seen her with a driver, like some cute older boy, to take her places. It was weird to see her hands on the wheel, with her friends all around her. The one with the braid was in the passenger seat. The other two- ponytail and pig nose- were next to Claire in the back with the blonde sitting bitch. It wasn't fun but she didn't want to voice her complaints so early in the DSL Dater experience.<p>

After a few moments of listening to the girls gossip and talk, she silently looked through her phone, reading the text messages- all from Massie.

One: _Where are you? We're about to leave? _

Two: _Claire?_

Three: _Whatever, you missed your ride. Call someone else to pick you up when you want to leave that school _

In all honesty, Claire should have answered back. Really, she should have just confronted Massie about the things Skye was telling her. The old Claire would. The old Claire would demand to know what she really thought about her. She wouldn't let words hurt her so much or go off with girls that she knew didn't get along with her friends.

Instead, she was in a call with the most popular clique in the junior class, on her way to Red Mango for an after school yogurt date. The DSL Daters wanted to know everything about being in a school for just boys and if it was as fun as they thought it was. It probably wasn't, but Claire was good at lying. She _was_ an actress after all- she could fabricate something.

"Skye, you've got a text," Heidi (or was it Hilary?) announced. "Should I read it?"

"Depends," the beautiful blonde answered, lowering the volume on the radio. "Who's it from?"

Heidi scrolled through the Blackberry, eyes widening just a tad. "Danny."

"Robbins?" Skye questioned.

"Yep," Braid Girl- Claire was confused as to what her name was- confirmed. "Read it aloud?" At Skye's affirmation, she opened the text and began to recite the words on the screen: "Free tonight. You down?"

Skye giggled, her laughter light and airy, almost like her personality. "Tell him I might be. Remain coy if anything."

Her friend took her word for it, typing swiftly on the keys.

Next to her, Ponytail called out, "I didn't know you and Danny were talking again."

"That was his first message since the party," Skye told her, turning on to a busy road. "I knew he'd come back. Underclassmen are _not _the best company, sex-wise, of course."

Claire frowned. Wasn't Danny with Alicia or something? Didn't he get pissed that Skye wanted him still? She felt extremely out of the loop but didn't want to express her confusion. They weren't friends like she was with the Pretty Committee. They didn't know she hardly stayed in the gossip loop.

"That's the truth," Nose next to her agreed. "So inexperienced. He'd like her if she knew what she was doing."

Wait a second…

"He said, _I'm sorry I didn't mean to- I just wanted to see that chest out of that shirt_," Braid relayed. "It's not even that impressive."

Skye shrugged her delicate shoulders. "Don't acknowledge that. Just tell him I might have an empty house at eight."

Braid diligently went back to responding to the cute boy.

Claire's mind worked at a hundred miles an hour. So inexperienced… see that chest out of that shirt… sex-wise… _No_. Alicia had sex with Danny Robbins at a house party? It couldn't be… she wasn't… That would explain a lot, actually. Her secretive answers to questions, avoidance to 'dating' inquiries…

Well, well, well.

"Have you guys been seeing each other then?" Claire asked.

Skye glanced at her in the mirror, sliding the car easily into a parking spot. "Since the summer started, yeah," she answered. "I mean, we all know Danny-"

"She doesn't," Nose interrupted, pointing her thumb at Claire.

"That's true." Skye unbuckled her seatbelt. "Claire, let me explain what kind of person Danny Robbins is." She turned her body in her seat, leaning her back against the steering wheel and her calves against the leather of the seat. "He's not the type of guy to stick with one girl. He's hot and all so he can get it from almost anyone. The thing with him and I though is that we've been a perfect match since the seventh grade. Do you get that?"

The younger blonde nodded. It reminded her vaguely of Massie and Derrick, but refused to say it aloud. Massie wasn't a good friend. It wasn't like she had to prove her loyalty to her or anything anymore. "Makes sense."

"So whenever things get crazy or we're at parties or whatever, Danny and I migrate towards each other. Unfortunately, he had other plans at Carson's so I was stuck waiting for him to stop getting some sort of sexually transmitted disease from Rivera."

"And after that he-"

Skye smirked. "He came back to my house with me. And didn't leave until the next afternoon."

Claire tried to find a response to that, her mind whirling. She wasn't quite sure what to say- she wasn't good in this area of relationships or anything. Sex sounded so far away for her. She didn't want to have it. She didn't want to even _discuss _it- but here she was, listening to Skye Hamilton tell her all about Alicia Rivera's dirty secret with one Danny Robbins.

If she had cared much about Alicia, she would feel bad. She would text her immediately and tell her that it was spreading around that she slept with Danny. Sadly, she couldn't find it in herself to care about the girl who hated her- shocker, right?- so she sat, still pressing ignore on the texts that were coming her way.

"He says _mind if I stop by_?" Heidi told her, tossing her braid over her shoulder. Her name was _definitely_ Heidi… The DSL Daters never actually spoke to each other using their given names. Or names at all.

Skye took the phone out of her hand and texted quickly. When she was done, she put it in the cup holder and opened the front door, jumping out gracefully. The others followed suit.

Claire was the last out of the car, scurrying up to meet the long-legged stride of the older girls. They were talking about something to each other, something she probably wasn't allowed to know because she wasn't a huge part of their group, and only remembered she was there when they were standing on line with their various Red Mango flavors.

"So, Claire," Ponytail started, spooning strawberries into her cup. "Tell us what it's like to go to school with _just_ boys. It has to be absolute heaven."

"It's not what you would think it would be." Claire stuck her finger in her yogurt, licking the pomegranate off. Mmm. "They don't really want us there."

"They _don't_ want _girls_ at their school?"

Claire shrugged. "That's what it feels like. I think they're mad at or something."

"You're probably just interpreting the vibe wrong," Skye said sympathetically. "Or they're just waiting until they can jump you in the janitors' closet. Oh, I'd love to go to school with just boys."

"That's because you're a slut," Braid teased.

Skye good-naturedly whacked her in the shoulder, grinning all the while. "Watch who you're calling names, Whore." She looked over at Claire and stage-whispered, "She's been sleeping with this really cute British boy since the beginning of the school year."

Braid rolled her eyes. "Not sleeping," she informed her, "just seeing each other."

"Code for sleeping, but whatever." Skye smiled.

The line moved rather quickly from then on with the older group of girls teasing and mingling with one another and the various people waiting to pay for their yogurt. It reminded Claire a lot of the Pretty Committee, back when they were nice to each other and nothing got between them. There were a lot of personal jabs and jokes, but they took them in stride and laughed like it meant nothing to them. Nowadays, if anyone said anything mean, they probably meant it and it was probably aimed towards Claire, even though she had never noticed.

They found a large table in the back of the establishment and all squeezed together. With their yogurts in front of them, they all started to eat each other's, taste-testing. Now it made sense as to why Skye had made sure each of them was getting something different.

After a few moments of silence, Skye finally spoke up again, addressing Claire only. "How's it going with the friend situation?"

All the attention was on her now and she blushed slightly, ducking her head to spoon some of Nose's banana-coconut mixture into her mouth. "I haven't seen any of them since first period today."

"Not even lunch?"

"I opted to do my homework in the library instead." Claire shrugged. "From what I heard, Cam sat with them anyway."

Nose winced. "Cam and Massie- I saw them getting it on at that party. They don't make a cute couple at _all_."

"Yeah," Ponytail agreed, nodding. "You and him were much better. They don't even match each other."

"Massie matches no one," Skye commented. "Not even when she was dating that cute goalie last year."

"Derrick Harrington?" Claire questioned.

Skye nodded, throwing her hair up into a bun on the top of her head. "That's his name? I wouldn't mind switching Danny out for him…"

"He's a year younger than you, Skye," Braid reminded her. "He probably doesn't know anything and you don't like inexperienced boys."

"I could make an exception." The blonde leader grabbed Claire's phone without warning and took a pen out of Nose's bag. Using a napkin, she scrolled through the younger's contacts and quickly scribbled Derrick's number down. "Besides, haven't you heard the rumors circulating OCD?"

Ponytail shrugged. "Just that he was over there with Singer, but that's just a rumor-"

"Not a rumor, _fact_," Nose cut in. "I was on my way to the bathroom when I saw her sneak out of the school, so naturally, I followed her. More time away from French was exactly what I needed. I saw him outside and they went off together somewhere. She didn't come back until two periods later when school was over so she could grab her things."

Claire raised her eyebrows. Interesting. She remembered Derrick saying he still liked Massie, but maybe that was just drunk him talking. Sober him sure sounded like he was over her and really loving the single life.

"Well," Skye capped the pen and tossed Claire her phone, saying she had a text, "we'll see, won't we? I'll give him a ring this weekend."

Ignoring their conversation, Claire opened the text. Again, it was from Massie. Didn't she get the hint?

_If you're going to ignore me, maybe we should talk it out? This is ridiculous_.

Claire typed back 'maybe later' and powered off her phone. She didn't want to deal with the petty and not-so-clever comments Massie had inside of her.

"So nothing else interesting happened?" Nose asked, finally speaking directly to Claire.

"Well, I dunno, really," she replied, twirling her spoon in the melting mess in her cup. "Uh, Dylan got really drunk and ended up talking to some kid named Landon Crane… do you know him? I've never met him but apparently he's cute."

Skye and Ponytail shared a look. "Yeah," the former murmured. "We know him."

The youngest member of the table shrugged. "Yeah, that's basically it. Unless you were curious as to who won the soccer game- it was Briarwood."

Aside from Braid's clap, there was silence. This gave Claire the opportunity to think about what would happen when she got home. Would Massie know? Would Massie want to talk? Maybe she could avoid that entire conversation entirely…

"Hey, Claire?" Skye asked, breaking through her thoughts. "Do you want to hang out with us this weekend? Friday, maybe?"

Friday was the weekly sleepover. It wasn't like she wanted to go to that- or was even invited, so…

"Sure. Sounds fun."

* * *

><p>After dropping off Alicia and Dylan- Kristen was tutoring- Massie, seething, stomped up her pathway and to her front door. She was absolutely irritated that Claire had ignored her like that. <em>No one <em>ignored Massie Block like she was nothing, not even people who absolutely hated her! They spared glances at her, made up rumors about her, and tried to talk to her just to catch her attention. Claire had no right to do any of this; Massie did _nothing_ to her. They were best friends- she understood so many things about the brunette, things that Alicia would never possibly get. Lately, though, Claire was so distant… and even more so today.

Massie, being the curious and prying person she was, had asked Todd if Claire's doctor's appointment had been canceled for the day. After making a few faces when asked about his sister, he said she didn't have one. That struck Massie as odd: why would Claire lie and pass up a ride to school? Then she skipped out on lunch and avoided getting a ride home. She ignored her text messages and responded to the last one with 'maybe later'. There was something going on with that girl, something Massie would love to find out, but she wasn't really interacting with the Pretty Committee at all.

Shaking her head angrily, Massie started pulling her tie off before she even got inside her house. This uniform was scratchy and stuffy; she wanted to take a nice, refreshing shower, and do her homework before it was time to eat dinner and go to bed. She needed time to think before she exploded.

Claire was being so weird- it wasn't like her to do any of this…

The front door was unlocked when she got there so she pushed it open and was in the process of removing her shoes (black wedges) when she heard the sounds of a conversation. A very loud conversation.

It wasn't like her parents to be home together at three in the afternoon. Normally Kendra was out shopping- it was Monday, and that was her day to peruse the mall- and William was at work until about ten at night. Massie was used to an empty house with the occasional sounds of Inez's favorite soap opera and Isaac on the phone with his daughter.

This was different and slightly uncomfortable.

"-_get out_," her father was roaring, the sound of his voice bouncing off the walls. "You no longer work here: _leave_."

"No!" Kendra wailed. "You can't do that, William."

"I pay him," William snapped, "I can do whatever I please and I want him out."

Another voice, this one she noticed as Mark's: "Mr. Block, I-"

"If I were you, I wouldn't make me tell you again," William warned.

No one responded to him, but Massie heard her mother's intake of breath and the hurrying footsteps of the gardener racing through the house. He passed by her quickly, mussed up and frightened. The front door slammed behind him.

Massie swallowed, the tension in the room rising to uncomfortable levels. She silently padded through the house, her curiosity getting the better of her. What was so important that her father had to kick the gardener out? Why was Mark terrified anyway? Her mind was full of so many thoughts she was probably overlooking the most simplest of answers.

Her parents were in the living room. Kendra was in a bathrobe and William was still dressed for work. It looked like he came home earlier than usual. Her mother's cheeks were wet with tears. Massie couldn't see her father's.

"Please, William, let me explain…"

"What is there to explain, Kendra?" He responded, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw was tight. "I come home from work to find you and _the gardener_ in bed together. _The gardener_. I thought you at least had some more class than that."

Kendra's expression went from miserable to angry confusion. "More _class_?" she shrieked. "I have class! A lot more than you do! _Meg Ryan_, William? Oh, don't give me that look- of course I know! You think I _wouldn't _know?"

William took a deep, calming breath. "Whatever you've heard, Kendra, it is nothing but lies. The business combined with the one she worked at and she was an old client of Len's."

"That's not what I heard!" Kendra's voice was so loud people in Japan probably heard her. "I heard you two have been going out to dinners and drinks-"

"We ordered Chinese food in once because we were working late, if that's what you mean," William interrupted. "That has nothing to do with the fact that you and Mark were rolling around in_ our_ bed."

Massie's jaw dropped. Mark. Kendra. Together? Ew. How had she never noticed this? She was _always_ home when her mother was. Mark was never there… except… oh shit. She _had_ noticed it but she was drunk at the time and it hadn't clicked. Mark leaving her house at one in the morning, his shirt buttoned up wrong, his hair a mess…

Holy crap, her mother was having an affair.

With the gardener.

Massie thought that only happened in soap operas and books.

"Your _daughter_ knew about it. How come she never said anything to you?" She wasn't aware they knew she was there, but Kendra's gaze- so like hers- settled on her face and William spun around. He didn't look as infuriated as she thought he would have. He was more tired, weary-looking, like he had enough.

"You knew?" he asked quietly, almost in defeat.

Massie never wanted to her father sound that way again. Broken and loss were not synonymous with the Block family name and William was the very epitome of Block. After all, it was _his_ name. Kendra just added it on to her own.

"I didn't _know_ know," she told him, unable to formulate a response. He didn't hate her, did he? "I admit that I saw him leaving late one night but I didn't put two and two together…"

"She's not a very good liar," Kendra commented.

"You would know if I were lying," Massie shot back. "I am actually very good at it. I learned from you, after all."

"Don't speak to me like that, young lady," Kendra warned, crossing her arms over her chest. "Tell your father what really happened."

Massie blinked, glancing at William out of the corner of her eye. He was too busy looking at her to bother with Kendra, and she sighed. "There's nothing more than that. I went out. I came home at around one and bumped right into Mark. It was last weekend when you were away, Dad, and his shirt was buttoned wrong. That's it. We had no interaction, really. He lied about 'taking care of nighttime plants', got mad when I made fun of the garden and Mom, and then the next time I saw him he was terrified of me, like I knew some secret of his." She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. "I had no idea what was going on at the time."

"If she loved you, she would have told you what went on," Kendra continued to make jabs at him.

"If _I _loved him?" Massie snapped. "Are you for real, Mom? I do love him! How was I supposed to do anything about it if I had no idea what was going on? You can't go placing the blame on _me_ because_ you _don't love him!"

"I do-"

"Leave Massie out of it," William cut in, voice deep and angry. "She isn't what's tearing us apart. You are."

Kendra's eyes flashed. "_I'm _tearing this family apart? You're the one who is _never _home! You're always working! You never spend _any_ time with us!"

"I'm the only one with a job here, Kendra," William retorted. "I don't see you doing anything to help us survive here. Westchester is an expensive place to live, _honey_. All you're doing is spending my money and acting like you're the queen!"

"We should have never have moved here then!"

"_You wanted it_!"

"I _don't_ want it anymore!" she shrilled. "If we were anywhere else, you would be home more often and I wouldn't have to sleep with other men!"

William's face darkened. "If you don't want it anymore, go. Go with your precious Mark. _Leave_."

Massie's heart jumped in her chest, beating so loud and hard she was honestly surprised they didn't hear it. Her parents had never fought to this magnitude. They were always getting along, sometimes bickering over food and Massie's grades, but never anything serious…

She licked her lips. This wasn't supposed to happen to her. She wasn't perfect but she was pretty damn well close to it. Her family was like that too- they had their quirks but they were what everyone wanted. A hardworking father, a beautiful, influential mother… They weren't supposed to cheat on each other! That happened in _other _families. Not Massie Block's. They were too good for that.

"William, you can't just-"

"Kendra…"

"You married me! You said you loved me!"

"_Kendra_."

"William!" She stomped her bare foot down loudly on the hardwood floor, the beginnings of a temper tantrum. "Stop right this instant. This is ridiculous. Take deep breath and go for a drive and when you come back, we'll discuss this as civil human beings…"

Her father turned so quickly Massie jumped and she, again, was introduced to his weakened, tired face. "Mass, please go upstairs to your room."

"Dad, I want to-"

"Massie, please." He was begging now and that pulled at Massie's heartstrings.

"Okay."

A tiny smile played at his lips and he patted her shoulder as she passed, hurrying up the stairs to her bedroom. It was awkwardly silent as her father waited for her to leave entirely. She figured this was not a conversation to eavesdrop on. William would have never asked her to leave if it was going to be very important and quite frankly, she was scared of what was about to happen.

Whichever way this conversation went, the Block family would never be the same again.

* * *

><p>"Dude, what the hell is going on with you?"<p>

Cam didn't look up, tying his cleats tightly to his feet. "What do you want, Josh?"

Josh plopped down next to him on the bench in the locker room, running a hand through his hair. "I want to know what you're doing."

"What do you mean, _what I'm doing_?"

"With Massie."

He looked over at his companion, watching him curiously. "That doesn't help clarify anything," he told him, kicking his locker door shut. "You have to be a little more specific."

"What's the deal? What _are_ you and Massie?"

"You are literally so obsessed with her. Are you alright?"

"I'm _fine_," Josh told him through gritted teeth. "And I'm not obsessed. We're friends and I want to know what you're doing. I'm also friends with Derrick, in case you've forgotten."

"If this is about how he still likes her, then I don't want to talk about it."

"Dude, you_ knew _before the party that he was still into her," Josh exasperated. "Why did you still go after her?"

Cam sighed deeply. "I don't want to have this conversation with you right now. I already had it with Derrick and he flipped. I don't need the same reaction from you."

"I'm not going to flip," Josh replied. "I just want to know why you thought it would be a good idea to go after a girl your best friend still liked-"

"You did it, why don't you tell me?"

Josh immediately stopped babbling.

"I… no- you _still_-?"

"I don't anymore, but I did," Cam muttered. "How could I not? She was the first girl I ever had a legitimate relationship with, the first person who looked at me and wanted to get to know me. After the break up, I wanted nothing more than to figure it all out- how I felt, how she felt- and maybe work it out, but then I fucking find out _you _went after her, so-"

"Is this a way to get back at me?" Josh demanded.

Cam laughed loudly, startling his companion. "No, no. I don't even like Claire anymore. I don't understand how you can deal with her. I guess when someone else dates the girl you thought was practically perfect, all of their imperfections and flaws are thrown right in your face. I don't even like it when she talks anymore and I used to love to listen to her talk for hours." He shrugged. "Am I not allowed to like Massie?"

"No, you are," Josh replied quickly. "I just… I just don't want to see this ruin your friendship with Derrick."

"Massie's always going to ruin my friendship with Derrick," Cam told him plainly. "She has before and she'll do it again."

"Why do you let her?" questioned Josh.

"Let me tell you a story, Hotz." Cam took a deep breath, listening for the sound of Coach Harrington's whistle to blow, alerting them of the beginning of practice. It didn't come. "Before you moved here, me and Derrick were best friends- still are to some extent- and we always vowed that we'd never let anything- not girls, not parents, not other friends- come between us. Besides, there was no way a girl _could_. We had different types anyway. I liked the blonde, intelligent types and he liked confident brunettes. But this was before Claire and during the times of Chris Abeley, as Massie told us about the other day, and Derrick and I both spotted her at different times."

Josh frowned. "I don't think I like this story."

Cam shrugged, waving him off. "And if you can guess, we both started to like her, which sucked ass because it was the one thing we promised would never happen. I… well, she basically played us both and then I met Claire so it didn't really matter, but for a few months, Derrick and I didn't talk. We didn't associate with each other. Half the time, at soccer practice, I aimed for his stomach. We were furious with each other because we always thought we were doing something to oust the other. But Derrick got her in the end and I found someone who I thought was better. Now, though… that's a completely different story."

"Because there's no one else for either of you?"

"You make it sound like we're never going to get over her," Cam responded, fiddling with his fingers. "Do you know what he does now? I mean, I shouldn't know since he doesn't talk to me and I don't want to talk to him right now, but…" He trailed off, biting his lip. "He literally just scrolls through his phone to find some random girl to hook up with."

"Yeah." Josh nodded. "It was Allie-Rose Singer today." He paused. "Do you feel bad about it?"

"About what? Allie-Rose Singer? I don't like her."

"No- that Massie picked you."

"Did he really expect her to still like him after what he did to her?" Cam asked seriously. "He basically took the one part he liked about her and badmouthed her. She's not as immature as he thought."

Josh raised his eyebrows. "Well, he did admit he was confused…"

"Confusion gives him no right to lower a girl's self-esteem." Cam brushed the hair out of his eyes and stood. "What was the point of this conversation, Josh?"

The other boy followed his movements, locking his own locker as they moved through the room. "Just to make sure you weren't going to hurt Massie in any way, that you and Derrick's fight wasn't going to ruin anything about her."

"Of course it won't," Cam promised. "I won't let it get to her and I won't physically put her in the middle. This is between Derrick and I and that's how it will stay."


	20. nineteen

this took me so long to write!

but i am officially out of high school, guys! yesterday was my last day ever and it was sort of sad but not really. something really stupid happened and we might not be able to have our prom, which sucks so much, ugh.

anyways, i hope you like this! and anyone requesting anything specific, it'll happen soon, don't worry. i've been listening! (:

also: who is your favorite character?

and would you guys hate it if i posted a new story before this was over? I have an idea for something but i don't if i should put it up...

xx

* * *

><p>"You kicked him <em>off<em>?" Derrick shouted, sweaty and tired from the practice that ended not even ten minutes ago. He had noticed that Plovert wasn't there and asked about it, but his father's only words were _I did what had to be done_. Well, that was a load of shit and Derrick was not pleased.

James Harrington took a deep breath, glaring at his son as if he was the one who had played soccer for four hours after school. "I did what had to be done, Derrick," he repeated. "Don't question my decisions."

"Your decision is _shit_," the blonde practically growled. "You just don't like any of my friends! How could you _do _that?"

"He got into a fight with Robbins," his father responded, a glint in his eye. "I don't tolerate violence, you know that."

"So kick Robbins off! Robbins doesn't even know how to play soccer!" Derrick snapped, throwing his hands in the air in all his fury. "At least Plovert knows what he's doing! Robbins shot at the _wrong goal_ Saturday!"

"Plovert started the fight-"

"I don't give a flying fuck _who_ started it!" Derrick's throat was starting to hurt from the shouting he was doing. His father was so out of line this time, it was irritating. "I know I may not be the captain of this team but for fuck's sake, Dad, I'm sure the team would be fine with Robbins. Without Chris, we're nothing!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," James sneered cruelly. "When did you become the head of this team?"

"Someone has to do it if you're not going to do it right!"

It happened so fast Derrick didn't have any time to prep himself. His father took one step forward and lunged, the sickening slap of skin against skin the only sound in the room. Derrick winced, his cheek stinging with the pain from the back of his father's hand. He gritted his teeth, biting down harshly on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything stupider than what was already out in the air.

"_Don't_ tell me I'm doing my job wrong," his father snarled, his entire face the personification of absolute anger and hatred. "You don't see anyone else lining up for it, do you?"

Derrick refused to answer him. Instead, he looked around at anything and everything, making sure he didn't spend too much time staring directly at his father's face.

Moments passed; the clock's hand ticked about forty times. He swallowed and then-

"Don't ignore me, Derrick. It is rude to leave your superiors hanging."

He was provoking him, he knew. James Harrington always did that whenever he was in a fight. Get them to say things you knew you wouldn't like and attack. One would think Derrick was too smart to fall into his trap, but he was so angry- and still reeling from that slap- that he wasn't thinking clearly. Of course, because of that, he retaliated just the way his father wanted.

"You aren't my superior. If anything, you're lower than me with the way you're acting."

"So you think you're above me, do you?" His smile was haunting. Scratch that: it wasn't a smile; it was a feral grin, something that made Derrick's spine tingle. "That's funny. Last time I checked, you were fifteen."

Derrick scoffed. "I may be fifteen but I'm a better man than you'll ever be."

That was actually the worst thing Derrick could have ever said; his father looked so enraged that he literally shoved him against the wall. And because luck was clearly _not_ on the blonde's side tonight, it was the doorframe he was thrown into and it killed his back, which was already sore from the number of exercise workouts he had done that day.

His father wasn't done yet, though, so as he passed, he made sure to shoulder his only son into the wall _again_. Derrick hissed out in pain, his entire arm vibrating with the force of his father's movements. Roughly, James Harrington climbed the steps to either his bedroom or study (most likely study) with a few not-so-nice parting words:

"You better be glad I don't kick_ you_ off the team, kiddo."

At this point, Derrick probably wouldn't have cared.

Wishing his mother wasn't working late at the hospital like she normally was on Mondays, he trudged to the bathroom to inspect the damage. He was used to this behavior from his father after all this time. Ever since he got that varsity spot freshmen year, he was always getting tossed and thrown around like it was a normal thing to do. Sometimes his father got a little out of hand, but…

James Harrington had an anger issue, everyone knew that. He blamed it on the fact that his dreams got tossed down the drain due to his accident, but Derrick bet it was part of his personality. There was no reason to get so irritated that he needed to attack his own son but Derrick would rather it be that way, if anything. He could sport a few bruises and sores if it meant his mother would be spared from his father's problems.

The mirror told him he had a nice black and blue forming on his cheek and he didn't even want to know what was going on with his shoulder. After running cold water over his hands and placing a cold cloth- it's what his mother would have done- on his face, he went back into the kitchen and sat at the table, deciding it would be better to shower when his father was not upstairs.

He was more than confused that Plovert had been kicked off the team because, well, the kid was a fucking saint. It made no sense that he was in a fight, let alone started one, but this was Danny Robbins they were talking about. Plovert hated his cousin with a burning passion and the feeling was mutually returned. Never had they gotten into a rift at school…

Without thinking twice, Derrick was dialing Plovert's number and waiting for his friend to answer the phone. This needed to be cleared up as soon as possible. Maybe he could get Dean Don to override the expulsion from the team or something…

"Hullo," was what Plovert said.

Derrick wrinkled his nose. "Hey, man."

"What's up?"

"You were kicked off the team for _what_ reason?"

Plovert sighed wearily on the other end. "It's a long, complicated story."

"I've got loads of time," Derrick replied, tracing the tiles on the table with his finger.

"Well, if you're sure."

"Considering I got into a fight with Dad over it, I'm positive."

"You did?" Plovert asked worriedly. "You didn't have to do that. Don't even sweat it; I don't care in the slightest that I won't be playing soccer this year. Or ever again."

Derrick frowned. "It is a big deal. We're friends and I'm pissed that he thought it would be a good idea to get rid of you because of some fight. I do hope you kicked the shit out of Robbins, though."

Plovert chuckled although it sounded forced. "Oh, I did. You should've seen him," he said, amusement laced in his tone. "Much worse than I was, believe me."

"Good. Sucks that he's only suspended from one game," Derrick mumbled, glancing at the staircase to make sure his father wasn't coming back down. "What happened?"

"You have to promise not to tell anyone, okay? I didn't even know it happened and I don't want anyone else knowing if it's the last thing I do."

"Chris-"

"It's not my secret or whatever to tell. Just promise."

"I promise, but-"

Plovert interrupted him again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Alicia slept with Danny."

"_WHAT_?" Derrick exploded, louder than anticipated. He paused for a second, listening meekly, but there were no footsteps rushing down the stairs to reprimand him for being obnoxious. "You're kidding. Please tell me you're kidding."

Alicia Rivera might have acted coy and mysterious and purposely played with boys' heartstrings, but she would never do such a thing with a kid like Danny. Not the girl that could hardly use a screwdriver or couldn't even do her own projects in woodshop. He felt a pang in his gut for leaving her alone that day, especially since he did it for entirely selfish reasons.

"I haven't asked her about it- and I don't plan on it- but Danny seemed pretty confident in it." Chris stopped for a second, taking a deep breath. "If there's one thing I can admit to about him, it's that he would never lie about having sex with someone. That's the only thing he's truthful about and apparently it's already gotten around that she did it…"

Derrick nibbled on his lip, taking this all in. He couldn't believe it. Danny was such a dickface; how did girls even find that remotely attractive? Then he realized that he was sort of, kind of a major dick so he didn't have the right to judge him.

"So you punched him in the face because he did that…?"

"Both you and your father ask the same stupid questions."

"Please do not associate me with him," Derrick practically growled, rubbing his cheek. It still stung. "I'm extremely mad at him."

Chris apologized on the other line. "No, he was talking about how 'good' she was for a 'virgin' and giving her number to his friends. Apparently boys in our school have already contacted her for her services… and I just got so disgusted, I couldn't _not_ hit him."

"You're such a prince," Derrick teased even though the situation was not something to be taken lightly. He could only imagine what Alicia was going through right now.

"Shut it, man," Chris shot back in equal jest. "Your dad found us kicking the crap out of each other- Danny's friends had long fled since then- and I'm off the team now because I don't 'contribute' enough or whatever he said."

"You contribute _more _than enough!" Derrick exclaimed. "I don't understand why he's-"

"It's fine," Chris interrupted, sighing tiredly. "I don't care. It gives me more time to, like, study or whatever and I have to do student government things…"

"It's just- I can't even- _Danny Robbins_? Seriously?" Derrick ran a hand over his face, realizing just now how tired he was. "He's not even a good player."

"I know," Chris agreed, "but- uh- listen, I gotta go. Just remember…don't say anything, okay? I'm not even supposed to know so-"

Derrick cut him off right there. "Hey, I know I'm an asshole more than half the time but I can keep a secret, man."

"Right, sorry, I just…" Chris' stumbles were sort of endearing.

The blonde on the other end smirked. "Go. Sleep or something, you probably need it."

"Yeah, I do…and Derrick?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for trying."

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't."

* * *

><p>It was eight o'clock, dark enough for Dylan to want to stay inside, curled up in her bed with kettle corn and her recorded television shows. She had just gotten out of the shower, her hair wet and heavy on the top of her head. The bathroom was still steamy from the heat of the water. Wrapped up in a fluffy white towel, she rubbed the side of her fist against the foggy glass of the mirror, staring at herself the way she had done so many times before. Critical. Judging.<p>

At this point, she was positive there was something wrong with her. She had seen Jamie and Ryan grow during these years- these awkward moments- but never had they looked so deformed. Never had they looked like Dylan. Jamie and Ryan were always brunette and blonde bombshells with sexy hips and flat stomachs and decent sized chests. They were every boy's fantasy, what every teenage male dreamt about.

Dylan, on the other hand, was awkward and gangly. Her hair was too frizzy, too long, too… _much_. Her arms were pudgy. There were too many freckles on her face. Her nose was too big. Her eyes were too wide, too far apart. Her lips were weird too: the top was thinner than the plump bottom one no matter what she tried to do.

Dropping her towel, Dylan took a deep breath and analyzed her naked body. It was the same routine after every shower- dry off, inspect, feel bad about herself, skip her nighttime snack (and maybe breakfast the next day).

It sucked that she still felt this way even after Kemp and Plovert gave up on teasing her, but words hurt. Even if they were said as a joke, they hit her biggest insecurity and they hadn't left. No amount of pep talks or encouraging statements could remove them from her memory.

And it wasn't like they were _wrong_. She didn't look like Massie or Alicia. She definitely did not have the stick figure her brunette best friend possessed, the look that seemed so normal and flawless. She didn't have the chest like her Latina friend, either, or the long legs that Alicia flaunted more often than not. Dylan didn't have the muscle like Kristen or the leanness of Claire. She was normal, average, and had all the qualities modeling agencies would _not_ want.

Her thighs touched- no one had told her that wasn't a bad thing. She had a little belly that wasn't flat against the rest of her. Her curves were horrible and it didn't even matter that Marilyn Monroe was not the skinniest person around. Dylan was bigger than three of her combined; there was no getting _that_ out of her head.

She swallowed roughly, deciding that it was a must to avoid food the next day. Some lemon water would be alright, she supposed. Nothing else. She couldn't risk it.

Tucking herself into the towel again, she exited the bathroom and padded into her room, throwing her pajamas on. All she strived for in life was perfection: a perfect body, the perfect personality… Turns out you could only have one and she just had to get the latter.

Her head was just through her shirt when her phone rang. It wasn't a ringtone she recognized- not programmed to alert her of her friends- so she hurried to finish getting into her clothes in order to check it.

She wouldn't admit that her heart skipped a bit when she saw Landon's name flash across her screen. (It did.) He never called her before. They'd been texting a lot lately, but she never heard his voice before. Honestly, she never _saw_ him.

It was quite embarrassing that she had no idea what he looked like.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dylan." His voice was deeper than she thought it would be. She didn't mind much, but… "What's up?"

She smiled slightly. "Nothing really," she told him. "I was getting ready to get comfortable with my shows before I knock out for the night."

"Oh… I didn't interrupt you, did I?"

_Aw_, he was so cute for being worried. He sounded so cute in general. "No," she giggled. "I haven't started yet."

Landon sighed in relief. "Good."

Dylan plopped down on her bed, resting her wet head against her comforter. "So, why'd you call?"

"Oh, uh, I was just wondering if you, uh, wanted to hang out or something."

She bit down on her lip. Alicia had said he was cute… and this cute boy was asking her to hang out? Eep times a billion!

"Sober," he said quickly. "And we'd like talk and hang out and stuff 'cause I don't think we really got to know each other that well since you were…" He cleared his throat. "Um, you don't have to if you don't want to. I know it might be a little weird since you don't even remember me but I thought it would be-"

"I'd love to," she interrupted him, aware that her face was probably as red as her hair. This type of stuff only happened to Massie and Alicia. They would love to hear this story during art the next day.

"Oh. Great." Landon sounded slightly comforted that she hadn't rejected him. She wasn't used to boys being nervous about her reactions to things. It made her feel good about herself, something she hadn't felt in a while. "Is Wednesday good?"

Two days from now? "Yeah," she replied. "Wednesday's great actually."

"Great. Good," Landon mumbled. "I don't want to interrupt your show-watching so… I'll see you then."

"Yeah."

The phone call ended on a more than slightly awkward note considering Dylan was not as suave and flirtatious as the other girls, but she figured that was the best she could do on such a short notice. She had a _date_- an actual, legitimate date- with a boy after school! She was going to hang out with a boy and get to know him and laugh and talk and maybe even kiss him-

This meant she definitely needed to skip breakfast _and_ lunch. Maybe even dinner.

Wednesday wasn't that far away.

* * *

><p>Tuesday proved to be just as tough to get through as Monday had been.<p>

This time, though, Derrick had texted Alicia to tell her he would be in woodshop no matter what, and she was a little bit more relieved. He'd be able to figure everything out before they started and basically tell her what to do. She wasn't completely inept at some aspects of that class so simple instruction would be extremely beneficial in this case.

"Hey, sexy lay-day," someone crowed, "how much you goin' for?"

Alicia's cheeks turned bright red and she ducked her head, shielding her face from view. This was absolutely awful. She thought maybe the teases and taunts would die down as soon as the hype was over, but they only seemed to get worse with time. Obviously these boys weren't used to girls in their school or else they would have handled the situation a bit classier, but that's what happened when one went to a private school where the genders were separated.

Her pace quickened as she heard others join in on the initial torment until all she heard were whispers and hisses of appreciation and cat calls of price requirements. Someone even had the guts to ask if she thought a hundred was enough. Excuse _her_ but she thought she was worth a little bit more than that.

If she hadn't regretted her drunken decision before, she really regretted it now. The reaction to her sleeping with Danny was more than she had anticipated. It was quite clear that Danny himself had told almost everyone what went down resulting in her imminent downfall. She probably shouldn't have put so much trust in him. After all, she had barely known him before she got drunk with him. How was she supposed to know what type of person he was?

Wrapped up in her own thoughts, she had no idea she had bumped right into someone until she felt the pain on her bottom and heard the laughter in the hall. Awkward, awkward, awkward.

Blushing madly, she muttered an apology, pushing herself up quickly. Whoever she walked into didn't have the common decency to offer her his hand, but she didn't need him. She was independent. She could do this all on her own. Her parents had taught her that much. Never rely on anyone else.

"Watch where you're going," was all he snapped at her.

"Sorry," she murmured quietly, swallowing. "I didn't realize-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it," he continued, making her feel like absolute trash.

Honestly she made a mistake and apologized. That was enough in her book. The boys here were so… _wait a second_.

Alicia looked up quickly, biting down unnecessarily hard on her bottom lip. She hadn't noticed at first, partially because she wasn't paying attention, but now it was very, very, _very_ clear that she had bumped into Danny Robbins. One glance at him was all it took. The familiar head of dark, dark hair, the eyes, the facial structure… there were some bruises on his face, but he was still very much the boy who was avoiding her every movement as if it were his job.

"Hello," she said strongly, leveling herself to give him one of her best glares.

He didn't seem affronted. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Why?" She crossed her arms over her chest, miffed. Avoiding his appreciative glance at her now more ample cleavage, Alicia couldn't think of any reason as to why he didn't want to talk to her. He liked to talk _about_ her, did he not?

"I don't want anything to do with you," he replied simply.

It seemed as if the entire hall suddenly burst to life again. Someone laughed at his comment, a group of boys whispered quite loudly that she deserved it. Deserved what? She didn't _do_ anything. Just him. All she did was him, which was obviously a really stupid idea.

"Wait, what?" She swallowed thickly, like her throat was clogged with cement. It hurt. That hurt. He was so interested in her before…

One of his friends- when did they get there?- smirked at her, his face deforming rather quickly. "Are you deaf too, slut?"

Slut? It felt weird hearing it from a boy's mouth, not a girl's when they were jealous. To be honest, it felt worse hearing it from a male, like it was legitimate rather than an insult to get her confidence down. She wasn't a slut…was she?

"Don't be rude, Paul," Danny hissed. "She's good at being a slut- you should compliment her on her talents before you degrade her."

Alicia bit down on her lip, refusing to let the sting in her eyes win. Blinking, she looked around, hoping there was someone- anyone- to save her, but was only met with the snickering faces of boys she didn't know. "I'm not," she choked out. "I'm-"

Danny's chuckle cut through her soft protest and he nudged the boy next to him. "Right?" he questioned. "A much bigger slut than Samantha?"

"Uh, yeah," a deep voice responded, startling Alicia. She _knew_ that voice…

Tearing her gaze from the floor, she stared right at the kid next to Danny, swallowing yet again. That was Landon. The same Landon who had been boring but nice at the gala and basically told her she was cool. He was in on this too? Was everyone in this hallway? They seemed to know when to react…

_God_, she _hated_ this school. All she wanted was to go back to OCD where girls would never take it this far in fear of getting on Massie's bad side. Here, the Pretty Committee was nothing. Nobodies in the midst of somebodies, sort of friends with the popular sophomore soccer boys but not really there yet. Sure, Massie was seeing one of them and friends with another and Kristen was tutoring the star goalie, but the rest of them were stuck in some sort of limbo with no way out. Alicia wasn't even sure one of them would save her from this confrontation right now even if she asked them.

"I'm not a slut," she told him, her voice weak and shaky.

What was happening to her? She was normally confident and driven. Why was a boy bringing her down like this? She was strong. She could do this-

"You're not?" Danny mocked. "Then why did you sleep with me?"

"I was drunk," she insisted, squeaking. Couldn't this be over? She just had to get to class…and hide for the rest of the day. She had been reacting so well to this whole thing, so level-headed, but one interaction with the boy who had stolen her virginity seemed to ruin all she worked for. She was nothing but a puddle of mush when he came around, able to twist her and make her feel things she hadn't felt in a long, long time. Like public humiliation.

"My cousin once told me that is no excuse, dearie."

"It is for me!" Alicia snapped. "And it's not an excuse. I _was_ drunk. You took advantage of me!"

Danny gasped theatrically. His followers cawed in appreciation. "Advantage?" he parroted. "I would never, Rivera. After all, you wanted it. You _begged me_ for it."

"I didn't beg-" she faltered, her entire body heating up. She couldn't even remember that night! How could she fight this if she had no idea what actually happened? "I _didn't_," she tried to insist strongly, but she knew her own argument was weak and pointless. She couldn't back herself up no matter how hard she tried.

And Danny knew it.

The entire school seemed to.

Landon was avoiding her still, staring at the row of lockers like they were the most interesting thing in the world. It wasn't like they were friends; he didn't have to prove his loyalty to anything. That, too, was getting her rather angry, but she couldn't seem to formulate anything to say. Her throat wouldn't let her.

"What was that?" he mocked, eyes raised in what would have looked like a sympathetic gesture. Too bad he was practically grinning from ear to ear at her discomfort. "I can't hear you."

Alicia bit her lip and remained silent, her nerves getting the better of her. Everything and everyone was so loud and taunting. It was starting to get more and more painful to stand there, listening to him make every jab at her while the rest of what seemed like the entire school waited and watched like it were a movie. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, focusing on the dirt on the boy's shoes rather than his face.

"Cat got your tongue?" one of his friends teased.

Her chin wobbled ever so slightly.

"Maybe she's reliving the best time Danny gave her," another said harshly.

She refused to blink, knowing that if she did, the tears would start falling.

"Most sluts do," Danny told them, snickering.

And that was it. The last time that word spilled from his lips, she was done. "I…" she started in a rough manner, swallowing back the incoming sobs. "I have to go." It was quick and rushed but she pushed past everyone standing around her and walked away as quickly as she could.

"It isn't good to run from your problems, Alicia!" Danny called after her. Someone laughed outright. Alicia bit her lip. "You should face them head on and with open _legs_!"

She heard the hall erupt into raucous laughter and cackles and in that moment, she felt the hot tears roll down her cheeks. Her chest physically hurt from keeping it as still as possible when all she wanted to do was bawl.

Vaguely, she heard Danny correct himself ("_Oops, I meant with an open mind! Sorry!_") and the response he got from that was enough to let her body relax and her upper body to rise and fall rapidly with each sob that escaped her.

Gripping her books tightly to her chest in a futile effort to keep herself from looking like a total loser, Alicia turned the corner and hurriedly shoved her way through the lingering students, unaware that she practically ran right into Derrick's chest as she did so. Without even so much as an apology, she let him stop her from slipping and maneuvered around him. She wouldn't know it was him until way later anyway.

"Alicia?" he questioned lightly.

Someone else called out her name, too, but she wasn't paying attention.

Eventually her footsteps became the only thing she heard in the silence of the halls- everyone had either gone to class or she was finally alone- and she stopped dead in her tracks. Through blurry vision, she deduced that she had no idea where she was and effectively allowed herself to break down all over again.

Everyone thought she was a slut! Everyone thought she _wanted _what happened to her! No one was going to believe her if she tried to tell them she didn't and now the whole school knew what she did. Now the Pretty Committee knew and they would judge her because she ruined their reputation. She was going to lose her friends _and_ her dignity over this. All because she made a stupid decision. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't _fair_. Then again, life wasn't fair and everyone was out to get her.

Why hadn't she gone to that boarding school like she wanted to? Why did she have to go _here_? She could have started over or something and been an entirely different person… maybe someone who studied more and cared about school rather than the shallow, attention-seeking girl she was now.

If only she could turn back the clock. If only. If only.

Her throat was starting to hurt again and her eyes were stinging and her nose was sniffly. Her parents would never in a million years pick her up from school because she was having a breakdown and she didn't quite know what to do after that stunt in the hall. No one ever made her feel like that before. No one actually went out of their way to make sure she felt like complete and utter shit.

People were usually scared of her. Terrified of what she could possibly do to them when she recovered fully. It was like the boys here knew she wasn't in her element, that she really couldn't do _anything_ because she didn't have the authority, so they did whatever they wanted. She was helpless and petrified and so new it hurt.

Whoever said being a teenager was the best years of your life was sadly mistaken. This was the worst and she was only fifteen. Nothing could ever top this. Boys sucked. Boys were the cause of every girl's problem, no matter how small.

Alicia only wanted to take back the actual action of sleeping with Danny. She would have much rather done it with someone who was nice enough to let her forget all about it.

"Alicia, are you okay?"

"Go away," she mumbled into her knees, squeezing her legs tightly. This was _so_ embarrassing.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong."

"You're just going to make fun of me," she mewled, sniffing.

There was an air of confusion in front of her but she refused to look up. Her eyes were probably really red and her makeup was running. What felt like forever, the voice spoke again: "I'm not going to make fun of you, Alicia."

"Everyone else is," she muttered, rubbing at her face.

"I'm not everyone else," he told her sincerely, and she looked up into the bright blue eyes of Chris Plovert. To say she was confused would be an understatement.

"Plo- Chris?" she mumbled. "What are you-"

He shrugged, smiling slightly. "Just proving to you that not everyone sucks as much as you think they do." He stood from his squatted position and held out his hand for her to take. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

"But everyone-" She took his end anyway, swallowing as he pulled her up. "Danny-"

"Danny's an asshole. Always has been, always will be."

"What am I supposed to do?" she questioned, feeling very small and so very much not herself.

Chris' thumb wiped the wet from her cheeks (like boys did in all those movies she adored) and he led her through the halls. "Just be yourself. No one can hate you for that."

* * *

><p>Kristen sighed, running a hand through her hair. Even though it was lunchtime, she wasn't feeling any less stressed. It was only the middle of September, but the workload seemed to pile higher and higher. She felt like she could hardly breathe, and what with her parents pushing her to do so much, she couldn't even take a break to really sit and relax.<p>

Take today for example. It was her only day off from tutoring so her mother had her volunteering at the animal rescue shelter on the outskirts of town for four hours. Then she expected Kristen to do all of her homework, get straight As, and be an all-around perfect person. It was getting to the point where Kristen just wanted to curl up in a ball and slowly rock herself to sleep.

This was one of the reasons she was currently working on all of her assignments- and she had a lot, thanks to her collection of advanced courses- during her every off period.

"You don't take Honors English, do you?" she asked Massie, who had seemed pretty distracted all day. She would have asked what was wrong but there was no time for that. No time to exist, really.

"Uh, yeah," Massie replied.

_She did? Since when? _"Did you start the reading?"

"We had to read?" the alpha asked stupidly, distant and spaced out. "Have you seen Alicia?"

Kristen sighed, shaking her head. "Haven't seen her since art. Why?"

"Normally she's here by now." Massie shrugged. "Where's Claire?"

"I don't have the lowdown on everyone, Mass," Kristen said as nicely as possible. She was already at her wit's end; she didn't need her friend thinking she was snapping at her for no reason. "I would assume she was with Josh."

"He hasn't spoken to her in a while," she admitted. "Said it was getting weird. Direct quote."

"I'd say that's a reason for a breakup, right?" Kristen slammed her textbook shut, giving herself a ten minute break. She deserved it. "I mean, why stay together if it's weird?"

Massie picked at her cuticles. "I guess so. They were an awkward pairing anyway."

"I thought they were cute for a while," the blonde told her. "Until the drama started up. Didn't he like her first?"

"Yep." Massie nodded, scanning the room. "Dyl should be here soon…oh, hey, there's Claire…wait, where's she going? We're over here!"

Kristen followed her gaze, watching as the towhead walked into the cafeteria, made a beeline for the kitchens, and then proceeded to walk out again with a tray full of lunchtime goodies. She frowned. Where was she going if she wasn't going to sit with them? What was even up with her? She, like Massie, had started to get odd and distant lately, ignoring her invites to hang out at the mall or something, and always opting to leave as quickly as possible.

"Ugh," Massie groaned. "She's getting on my last nerve. You don't happen to know why she's like that, do you?"

Unfortunately Kristen could only shake her head in the negative. The last time Claire had seemed relatively normal was at that party, but even then she was moody and annoying, especially about the whole Massie and Cam thing. Which made no sense- she had no romantic feelings towards that kid at all.

"That's not like her," Massie confessed, biting her lip thoughtfully. "I know there were problems at home, she told me about them the last time we talked which was… oh, I don't even _know _when the last time we talked was. I don't think anything got worse, she hasn't mentioned it at all and Mom hasn't spoken about it…" She shrugged. "Maybe she's sick or something."

Kristen had no idea what to say so she blurted, "Maybe she's getting uncomfortable in this school. I know I am."

Massie sighed again, deep and long, like she was experiencing something life-changing. "Don't worry, I'll rule soon. We won't feel like that in a few months. We'll be making others feel uncomfortable."

"So you really haven't started the reading?" Kristen quickly changed the subject. Talking about ruling anything made her miss OCD and the simplicity it brought to her life. She was someone there. She missed being a someone.

"We got that book today, Kris," Massie reminded her. "It's not due until next Tuesday. Don't stress yourself out so much."

"I need to at least get half of it done!" the academic blonde insisted. "I have _no_ time for anything and if I can knock this book out, I can-"

"Please tell me you're talking about _Macbeth_," Cam Fisher interrupted, slipping into a seat next to Massie. She smiled slightly, the corners of her lips upturned in a less than enthusiastic grin. She had been giving everyone that lately.

Kristen nodded, watching in interest as Josh, Derrick, Kemp, and Plovert all followed Cam's lead, taking up the previously empty chairs around the table. After the initial shock of seeing the five of them back around her- friendly, too- she opened her mouth to speak. "I need to read it all today or I'll never get it done."

"It's due next Tuesday," Plovert told her.

"That's what I said," Massie agreed. "She seems to think getting everything done the day it's assigned will do something for her grade."

"I do not!" Kristen huffed, rolling her eyes. "I have no time, I told you. I have to tutor every day this week except today and volunteer and study for _everything_. This is my only semi-free day!"

"You don't have to tutor me tomorrow if you don't want to," Derrick offered with a quick smile. He looked rather put together today; Kristen wondered if he had gone off on his girl adventure yet. He wasn't shiny so she figured he hadn't.

"No," she shook her head. "You need help. I'm not going to jeopardize your grade because I'm overwhelmed. I'll be okay tomorrow."

_If I get any sleep_, she thought with an internal sigh. Pulling all-nighters this early in the year was not a good sign. Normally she'd be up to all hours of the night studying for big tests (midterms, finals) but lately she had been awake until three just to finish her homework on time. The last time she got a full night's worth of sleep had probably been Friday. That felt like so far away.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about me. I'm used to this."

Massie nodded. "She is. She's perfected the whole nerd thing."

"Academically inclined," Kristen corrected.

Massie snorted.

Deciding it was best to probably finish up the last few math problems she had, she flipped her textbook open again and resumed her previous work as everyone chit chatted around her. Massie and Josh were in an interesting debate over the reason behind their bio teacher's absence (Josh was betting on alien abduction since their teacher was _never_ out unless it was an absolute emergency; Massie heard he had the flu). Derrick and Cam were oddly silent with each other, both deciding to speak to Plovert and Kemp respectively about sports and food.

Kristen wished she could just ignore all of her homework the same way they did. Plovert was basically her school twin with his impressive grades and extracurriculars, but she didn't see him freaking out the way she did. She bet his parents left him alone about college. Then again, he did have a pretty impressive resume as it was…

She stifled a yawn as Derrick quickly turned to face Massie, clearly avoiding Cam's intense stare. Weird.

"I saw Dylan before," he told her, "and she wanted me to alert you that she wasn't going to be at lunch since she has to finish a project."

Massie nodded. "You wouldn't know anything about Alicia or Claire, would you? I haven't seen them…"

Derrick and Plovert shared a look, but didn't elaborate much. "Alicia was at the nurse last time I saw her, probably going to the bathroom since they won't give you your own," the latter responded. "And I never see Claire, sorry."

"I haven't seen her either," Josh added with a shrug. "Haven't seen her in a couple of days actually."

Massie bobbed her head like she was thrilled with this. Kristen wished she could ask what was going on her mind but she had work to do and didn't like to pry unless necessary.

She scribbled the problem out on her paper, grumbling as she attempted to solve it quickly in order to give herself enough time to get the ten remaining ones done before the period was over. When she rushed, though, she didn't do as well and she couldn't figure out what to do exactly. Why did she take honors again? Colleges wouldn't have minded regents trig.

"Is that the math homework?" Cam asked. "How did you do almost all of it already? Class ended not even an hour or so ago."

Kristen almost forgot he was in her class. She shrugged. "I had time in my other classes," she told him, "but I can't get the last few."

"Want help?" Cam questioned. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the book towards him, turning it around, and started reading. He made a few faces at the number of questions on the page and eventually began to understand what they had to do before explaining it as best he could.

It didn't take very long for Kristen to fully understand the material, being able to do the rest of the homework on her own. Cam went back to socializing on the other side of the table, smiling adorably at Massie when he caught her attention.

For a few seconds, Kristen watched them interact, just to see if Massie was still in the awkward _I have a crush on you_ phase. Her face was only slightly tinged with pink when he kissed her cheek and she looked down shyly afterwards.

The blonde let out a light giggle afterwards, dropping her head just in time to miss the death glare Derrick sent Cam's way.

* * *

><p>Massie knew she was basically on her own planet during school, but she was so confused. Last night had been the first time she didn't know what was going on. Her parents had been fighting over Kendra's affair and Massie still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that her mother would cheat on her father like that. William was the nicest person Massie knew and even though she barely saw him, she still appreciated everything he did for her.<p>

Their fighting had gotten softer when she was exiled to her room, making it impossible for her to effectively eavesdrop. So she sat there all night, unable to force herself to go shower. What if they split up? She wondered over and over. What would happen to them?

At some point or another, she had finally fallen asleep- still in her uniform and makeup- and when she woke, it was ten minutes to the time her alarm clock would go off for school. Busily getting ready that morning, her heart was pounding in her chest and she slipped a total of four times in the shower because she was so antsy. Her hair hadn't come out right, she skipped out on makeup entirely because her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and she lost one of the shoes she wanted to wear.

All in all, her morning had sucked completely.

What made it worse, though, was when she went down to get some breakfast and see her parents, they weren't there. Inez had no idea what happened to them, suggesting that Mr. Block went to work early and Kendra was probably at the mall. Even Isaac said he hadn't seen them since yesterday. It worried Massie greatly considering their fight was really big. She watched those crime shows- what if one of them killed the other?

She, of course, had to get herself all worked up over it and was a silent wreck all throughout school. She knew Kristen was getting worried, but Kristen was swamped with work that it didn't matter. Cam noticed, too, but he was good at not asking unless she wanted to talk, something they agreed on the other day when she was feeling particularly moody. He never wanted to pry. She hadn't seen Alicia, which was weird, since she was always around. Dylan wasn't very observant but she bought her coffee in the morning because she 'looked tired.' Claire was avoiding her like the plague- they really needed to talk- and for some reason, all five of the boys on the soccer team ate lunch with her.

The day seemed to go by so slow that by the time Isaac dropped her off at home, she literally sprinted into her house just to see. Maybe they were home. Maybe someone would tell her what happened. There were no cop cars around, so no one was dead, but she couldn't be sure about anything.

Inez was making dinner. Again, the only sounds throughout the front end of the house had to do with her housekeeper. Slowly but surely, she walked deeper into her home, feeling more than disappointed with the vacant, empty feeling resonating around her. Were her parents not there?

That might be for the best, if she really thought about it. They probably needed time away from each other to cool off before they settled their dispute. After all, they could work past it…right? Cheating was never okay but Massie couldn't see her family splitting up after all of this. Her family was perfect. She tried to be at least, and her father worked so hard for them, and Kendra was the right combination of bitchy and Stepford wife. Everyone wanted to be the Blocks or have them as friends; a split in the family would _not_ do well in their favor.

Massie took a deep breath, her head spinning, and tried to walk through the house the way she normally did. All she wanted was to know what happened last night. At the rate her day was going, she probably wouldn't until-

"Mass? Is that you?"

She jumped, so lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed her father sitting in the living room as she passed it. Backtracking, she stopped in the doorway, watching him silently. He was still in his usual work attire, but he looked battered and tired as if he had just gone to war.

Swallowing, she entered the room. "Hi."

"Hey, buddy," he greeted. His hair was also a mess, not perfectly coiffed like usual. "How was school?"

Massie shrugged. "It was fine."

"Those boys treating you right?"

"For the most part," she answered. "They're not too thrilled we're there but they don't go out of their way to bother me."

"Good." William sighed. "That's good. I would hate it if you were unhappy there."

"I'm not, don't worry." She watched him for a while, observing his movements. She never saw him after work but he looked more exhausted than she thought he would. He loved his job- he always said that it wasn't technically work because he loved to do it, so he was having fun…or something like that. Something else had to be eating at him and Massie couldn't help but blurt out her worries about the other night.

William looked up at her, his sparkling blue eyes a major contrast compared to her amber (Kendra's genetic gift) and she thought she saw him wince. "She left, Mass."

Left.

She left.

_Left_.

"What?" Massie croaked, hating the fact that she sounded so… so… _not herself_. "What do you mean she left?"

"Packed her things and went to find Mark," William replied, his tone full of bitter resentment. "She left last night."

"She picked _Mark_ over _us_?"

"Unfortunately so," her father responded. "I'm sorry, honey, I know how much she meant to you-"

"She didn't mean anything to me!" Massie snapped, her Queen Bitch attitude came back at full force. She was angry. "She was never around to mean anything to me! All she did was go shopping and gossip and tell me when I was annoying her! She never _cared_."

"I know that's not true, Massie-"

"It is!" she insisted, an all-too familiar feeling pricking at the back of her eyes. No. No. _No_. Don't cry. Don't cry. _Don't cry_. "As much as I love Inez, Mom could have done _something_ around the house. She was home often enough! She just ignored me! She ignored the fact that she had a _family_!"

William stood quickly, placing his hands on Massie's shoulders. She couldn't look him in the eyes just in case she started to sob hysterically- this couldn't happen to her this couldn't happen to her. His touch was warm and pleasant but it was doing nothing to calm her down. She was shaky and uncomfortable, unable to control her emotions, which was something a girl like Massie was afraid of. She was always so in control and prepared; she was losing the grip on what she loved most.

"Kendra loved you, Massie. She may have made a few mistakes but I can vouch for her on that."

"But _Dad_," Massie whined, her vision getting blurry. At least she was staring at his shirt and not his face. It would kill her if William saw her in tears. "She _cheated _on you. With the _gardener_. Why are you defending her?"

"Because if there is one thing I know about your mother, it's that she always cared for you."

"But not you!" Massie half-whimpered. "I like you better and I'm sorry I should have told you about what I saw but I swear I didn't know what was going on at all and I feel really bad about it and if I had just told you maybe this wouldn't have-"

"Massie, it's not your fault," he interrupted her babbling. She had a slight inclination he knew what she was feeling right now and she felt more than ashamed that she couldn't keep herself together in front of him. "None of this is because of you. I want you to understand that. Kendra and I have been rocky for months now and this was just the last straw. She made her own decision- not because of you, but because of _me_ and my inability to be home twenty-four-seven. Obviously she thinks Mark will be better for her. We'll see about that."

Massie sniffed, her throat closing up. Everything was falling apart. Everything was changing and she hated change. The Pretty Committee was different now that they were in Briarwood, Claire didn't want to talk to her, the soccer boys weren't being dicks anymore, and now her family was breaking up. It was like everything she touched somehow got fucked up, like she was the opposite of King Midas. She couldn't possibly rule a school- or two- if everything else around her was falling to pieces!

"Chin up, Mass," William murmured. "We'll get through this."

She breathed deeply in and out and tried to nod strongly. Her face was heating up. She wanted to get out of here before she exploded. In anger or sadness, she didn't know; she just wanted out. It seemed like William knew exactly what she was thinking and nodded, saying something softly about getting take out for dinner tonight.

Massie tried to get out of there as calmly as possible but once she was out of her father's line of vision, she raced through the house and up the stairs, locking herself in her room. It was at that point, as she was shutting the blinds, that the sobs escaped her, tears falling down her cheeks so rapidly she felt sick.

Her mother _left_ her. _Left. Her._ Left the family. She was such an inconsiderate human being for doing so and Massie wondered vaguely if she was just like her. She didn't want to resemble Kendra in any way whatsoever, not after this. Never after this.

At one point, she thought it was good to be like her. When she was younger, she idolized her mother. Kendra was always so confident and put together, with an answer for every question even if she didn't know what was going on. Massie wanted to be as perfect as her, but in reality, she wasn't perfect at all. This proved what Massie was scared of all along: perfect people made mistakes. The mistakes they made were the biggest ones, too.

Mistakes were something Massie was very familiar with. In the past two years, she made nothing but mistakes and they defined her as a person. That was probably why so many people hated her versus actually liking her, why girls wanted to tear her down and teach her a lesson. Even the boys at Briarwood thought she was a stuck-up nuisance and wanted her to get a taste of her own medicine. Maybe if she had a better mother, a better role model, they would actually like her for her…

She swallowed the last few sobs roughly, ignoring the pain in her chest, and blindly groped around her bed for her phone. She needed to talk to someone, anyone, who would listen and understand and actually give her advice. She needed someone who cared, someone who wouldn't tell her the things she wanted to hear. She needed someone real.

Massie never thought Josh Hotz would be that person for her, but here she was dialing his phone number and stifling her cries for him.

She remembered when he was basically public enemy number one. That wasn't even that long ago, a few weeks, actually, but now here she was, practically longing to hear his voice and have him tease her and mock her. She hadn't wanted to be friends with him, not after what he did to the group... She was glad she finally got sick of his constant pestering and let him in.

She wouldn't admit this to anyone, not even Alicia: Josh was getting very close to becoming her best friend. Not just a _guy_ best friend- a best friend in general.

And when he answered the phone in his usual manner ("Ew, why are you calling me?") she didn't know if she cried because he was there or because her life was falling apart at the seams.


	21. twenty

thank you all for the reviews! i'm really lazy or i would have replied to you all individually (:

hold on tight: you'll get what you guys want soon enough. some things need to happen before all of that though. sorry if this chapter sucks though, i'm not really very proud of it, but it was necessary.

:)

* * *

><p>"Mass, what's wrong?" Josh questioned, feeling incredibly off. "Are you… crying?" He had never seen or heard of the great Massie Block shedding a tear over anything. He was kind of afraid, to be honest, but at the same time slightly honored that she called him.<p>

She blubbered on the other end, completely inaudible except for a few choice words he had managed to understand. _Life, over, mess, sorry_ and_ ruined_ were among them. He was worried about her now, unsure as to what she was talking about and wanted nothing more than to figure it all out and make it better.

"Massie." His voice broke through her weeps and cries. "Listen to me right now. Take a deep breath." She followed his instruction; he heard her calm and shakily breathe. "Okay, good. Now tell me what's wrong."

She was silent for a few moments, the only sound being the air raggedly coming in and out of her nose. It took her a while, but she spoke. "My mom left." It was short and to the point; she sounded bored with the whole thing, a total three sixty from her attitude before.

"I'm sure she'll come back," was Josh's immediate response. When Massie didn't answer, he winced, realizing that it probably wasn't the best to act as if everything was a joke.

"She left for good, Josh," Massie mumbled.

"Oh."

Oh. Was that really all he could say? _Oh_? This was a big deal and he couldn't think of _anything_ to say. He was so fucking articulate.

"I mean," he said quickly, trying to redeem himself, "I'm sorry. No, that's not the right thing to say… uh, I don't- actually, yeah, I'm sorry."

Massie sniffed on the other line. "It's okay," she murmured. "I-I didn't know who else to call."

"Not even Alicia?"

"I… I don't think she would get it," his friend admitted. He really wished he knew what was going on in her mind. Maybe then he'd be able to talk to her the proper way. "She's… well, things like this normally don't happen in Westchester or to girls like me and Alicia. She wouldn't understand."

Josh swallowed. He didn't understand either, but he wasn't going to say that aloud. All he had was his father who apparently was a homophobe to go by and that probably wasn't saying much. "Well," he finally said after careful consideration, "I'm glad you thought you could call me."

"I just had this feeling that you were the one to call."

"What happened?" he asked, unable to tell her that he probably wasn't all that awesome to begin with. He couldn't even deal with his own problems, who said he could handle someone else's? But to be honest, he would probably try his best to make sure she was happy way before he was.

It was weird that he had this urge to be friends with her again but even after the big Pretty Committee and Briarwood Soccer Team split, he knew they had some sort of connection. Before, when he was interested in Claire and Alicia wanted him, he was always talking and laughing with Massie instead of them. They were the kind of friends the other boys couldn't find in anyone else- able to merge towards each other when things got awkward and find some way to pass time if they ended up third-wheeling together (and with Claire and Cam, that happened a lot).

He guessed that after they stopped having contact, he missed that familiarity. The others made fun of him for being so nostalgic and sentimental because they hadn't wanted anything to do with these girls ever again. It was funny how things could change so much in the span of a few weeks.

If the Pretty Committee hadn't been expelled from OCD and sent to Briarwood, Josh knew things would have been different. They wouldn't see them as often- or ever- and they wouldn't have felt the pull he had to reunite. They would probably end up being friends with other groups of girls and maybe fitting in much better without the constant drama and pettiness, but would they ever be happy? He wasn't sure…and he didn't really want to find out.

He was in a good place now. Sort of.

"I'll start from the beginning, I guess." Massie sounded a bit better about the whole situation. Her nose was clogged up though, so it was hard to understand her, but at least she stopped crying. Josh didn't like it when girls cried. He never knew what to do. "It's a long story."

"I did my homework already. I have all the time in the world."

She made some noise in the back of her throat, like she was amused at his comment, and he instantly felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Maybe could be witty about the whole thing…

"The night of the party, I got home around one after Claire dropped me off, and I was being really sneaky and secretive about getting in the house because I didn't want anyone to know what I had done at Carson's," she explained. "It worked for a while before I bumped into my fucking gardener-"

"Did you just say 'fucking'?"

"Yes, I did."

"I didn't know that was in your vocabulary."

"Guess I spend too much time around you."

"Briarwood _has_ changed the elusive Massie Block," he mused. "Carry on."

"As I was saying," she muttered with some of her usual attitude, "I bumped into my gardener on the way up the stairs. I don't recall the conversation I had with him, but I remember his shirt was buttoned wrong and he was really, really antsy. Like, he looked absolutely terrified that I was there. Granted, I was drunk, so I had no idea what was going on, but that was the first thing that ever happened."

"Your mom was sleeping with your _gardener_?" Josh asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "I thought that only happened on _Desperate Housewives_."

Massie coughed. "You watch that?"

"Only when my mom does," he admitted. "It's very interesting. And scandalous. I like to watch things with my mother. It's our bonding time."

"No one's home for me to ever watch television with them," Massie admitted. "I think I watched Inez's soap opera once so I didn't have to do my homework."

Josh knew that the Blocks were a very busy family. Anyone with that reputation in this kind of town had to be social and working almost twenty four seven. His mother always said she saw Kendra at the mall almost every time she was there or there was always some sort of event hosted by Massie's mother. William was constantly working- he knew that, too- and was never around except in the morning and late at night. He felt bad that Massie hadn't grown up with parents who took care of her and spoiled her because they wanted to, not because they thought they had to.

This thought process resulted in this: "You can come over and watch with me and my mom if you want."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I can catch you up on where me and my mom are. It can be our thing."

"Our thing?"

"Yeah, you know how friends do things together, like, on a weekly basis? Like you and your friends have your sleepovers? We can watch _Desperate Housewives_. It'll be our thing."

Massie didn't answer for a second- a second which felt like an hour- and Josh immediately became self-conscious. "I mean, it doesn't have to be _a_- you don't have to if you don't want to, I just thought maybe-"

"That's really sweet, Josh," she murmured. "I- no one's ever suggested anything like that for me before."

His cheeks heated up. "You sounded like you needed something fun," he told her. "This show is fun. I swear, it's like a different crazy thing after another."

She laughed and he was actually thrilled that she did so. Before, she had been so upset it had worried him because Massie Block wasn't supposed to be upset. She was supposed to be making _other people _feel that way, not herself. "I believe you."

"Good. We will start on Sunday."

"Sounds like a plan," she agreed, and with a deep breath, the mood shifted. "Do you want to hear the rest of the story?"

He really didn't want to: it didn't sound like it was going to get any better. "Sure," he said anyway, because what kind of friend would he be if he declined?

"Well, after that, I guess I forgot that ever happened but my gardener was always jumpy around me, which I thought was weird. Then yesterday I come home to my father and mother in a huge fight because he caught them in bed together and I didn't know the outcome until today because I got exiled to my room and fell asleep."

"So _that's_ why you didn't answer my text."

"Yeah," Massie said. "Sorry. I slept from, like, four to six thirty in the morning."

"What a power nap that is."

"I'm exhausted, though," she told him. "And I came home today and my dad tells me that Kendra picked the gardener over her fucking family. Like, who the fuck does that?"

It was still kind of weird to hear Massie use that word. Wasn't she too classy or something to say that? Wasn't there a rule?

"She obviously doesn't deserve you and your dad then," he commented. "If she thinks the gardener of all people is better for her than you and William, I don't know what's wrong with her. I mean, first of all, he's a _gardener_. Second of all, he's a _gardener_. Third, I like William better."

"You've never met my gardener and I'm pretty sure you've never talked to my dad before."

Josh shrugged in response before realizing she couldn't see him. "Your gardener sounds like a douche and I talked to William the last time I was at your house. He wanted to know who I was and I said so. He was really awesome about it."

Massie snorted. "He probably said _do I know you _and you said _I'm Josh, I'm new in town_ and he was like _oh, welcome to Westchester_. Am I right?"

"I said 'I'm Josh _Hotz_', thank you very much," Josh retorted. "But yes, that's what happened. He was the nicest person ever."

"I'm sure he would love to hear that."

"Then I'll tell him."

There was another silence, this one comfortable and contemplative. Josh wondered if he should tell her what happened to him at that party since she told him her story, but he was still a little iffy about it. What if she didn't want to be friends with him anymore because of his potential gayness? He wasn't even sure what he was himself so telling anyone else (besides Kemp) didn't seem like the best idea.

So, instead, he said: "Are you going to talk to Cam about it?"

Massie sighed like she had a lot on her plate. Which she did, really, if he thought about it. She was at new school with all boys- most of which wanted her out of there (they talked about it loudly in the locker room)- and was at some weird stage in a relationship-slash-friendship with Cam. She had no idea Derrick still liked her nor had she any clue what was going on with Claire, her best friend. Everything was shifting and he knew Massie liked to be in control. Despite her need to hold all the power, she couldn't do anything in this situation. Nothing at all.

"I don't know how he would react," she told him honestly. "We just started whatever this thing is and I'm not sure if I should throw this on him like that."

"He'd be really nice about it," Josh answered her unspoken question. "He's really nice about almost everything. I'm sure he'd want to make sure you were okay."

"I don't think I can do that." She took a deep breath. "It was one thing calling you but telling Cam? Two different scenarios."

Josh wrinkled his nose. "Why is that?"

"Because… well, you're like my best friend," she said slowly. He grinned at this announcement; that's all he really wanted for about three weeks. He wanted to be there for her like they always were for each other in the past. It was really nice to hear her say that. "And he's, like, this kid I kiss when I want to kiss somebody."

"So?"

"You don't just throw personal things on a kid you're kissing for the sake of kissing," she informed him matter-of-factly. "It would be different if we were dating."

"Don't you guys talk?"

"Yeah, we do, but we don't talk about important things. Sometimes it's about homework and classes and then sometimes he asks me how my day is. Most of the time we just hang out and, like, stuff happens."

_Stuff_. Josh didn't want to know what kind of 'stuff' happened. "You could tell him, though."

"I _could_," she agreed, "but I don't think I will. We're not at that point yet. Like, I don't know anything about _his_ family so I don't want to throw mine at him head-on. Maybe some other time."

"Are you sure?"

"Right now I have you. I don't need anyone else."

"Well, since you have me… do you want to go get frozen yogurt or something?"

"From Red Mango?"

"If that's where you want to go." Josh shrugged. "I'll pay for yours."

Massie spluttered out some response that he didn't have to spend money on her, she was capable of buying her own yogurt, but he shut her up, saying that he wanted to.

"Fine," she huffed, "but at least let me pay for yours."

Josh chuckled. "Deal."

He'd sneakily find some way to pay her back.

* * *

><p><strong>Derrick<strong>: I can't make tutoring today

**Kristen**: your test is tomorrow, derrick

**Derrick**: don't blame me! I have a mandatory soccer meeting to go to after school

**Kristen**: when does it get out?

**Derrick**: I'm not sure, it's about plov's spot so we might be there for a while

**Kristen**: plovert's spot?

**Derrick**: yeah, he got kicked off.. you didn't hear about that?

Kristen felt her jaw drop as she read Derrick's latest text message. This whole time she had thought he was trying to find some way out of tutoring to kiss some girl or something like he normally did. She wasn't expecting him to say Chris Plovert got kicked off the varsity soccer team! It took a lot to lose a spot on one of those; once you had it, you didn't want to lose it. It was an honor to be considered a good enough player to be on the elite team and she knew that Plovert had always wanted to play on it.

She glanced at the time (10:34 AM), hoped she wouldn't be late to her next class, and pushed her way through the crowds of boys to get to Plovert's locker. She knew where it was placed mainly on the fact that she knew where Alicia's was- which was down the hall and around the corner- and wished and prayed that the boy would be there when she arrived.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Derrick, she did, but this was such a big piece of news that she _had_ to hear it from the boy himself.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket twice in a row but she ignored it. It was probably Derrick again, trying to reschedule his session with her. He needed to up his chemistry grade even though he got a B-plus on the last quiz. His father _and_ the administration were being really hard on him, she knew. He was always complaining about the attention he didn't want from them.

She passed by Claire who she waved at hurriedly. The towhead hardly responded, watching her carefully as she went off to her own class, choosing to respond at the last minute. Kristen was too busy with her mission to wonder what stick was up Claire's butt, but made the mental note to talk to her at lunch later. _If_ she was at lunch later.

A lot seemed to be going on in the Pretty Committee's world.

James Ridder also said hello to her, but she ignored him completely, remembering what Derrick had told her about him. He was nasty. Kristen almost wanted to change her seat in math so she wouldn't have to be near him. He did nothing but try to talk to her. Maybe she could sit near Cam… she'd have to talk to Mr. Jenks tomorrow about that. He'd understand. After all, she was the only girl in that class.

It took a little longer than she would have liked, but Kristen finally made it to the hallway she needed and was more than relieved to see Plovert dawdling at his locker.

"Chris!" she greeted breathlessly, coming to a stop at his side.

He closed his locker door and glanced over at her. "Kristen!" he said enthusiastically, leaning his shoulder against the metal wall.

"What's this I hear about you getting _kicked off_ the soccer team?"

Plovert rolled his eyes. "I got into a fight with Danny," he informed her, "and Coach hates any sort of violence between team members so I got the cut because I 'started it' or whatever."

"Danny?" she questioned. "Danny Robbins?"

"Yeah. He's my cousin."

"He's your _cousin_?"

"You didn't know that?" Plovert tilted his head to the side curiously, his long curls following his every movement.

Kristen shook her head. "I just knew he was older than us… why'd you get into a fight with your cousin?"

"I don't- _we_ don't really get along," he informed her, scratching the back of his neck. "He said a few things I didn't like so I punched him in the face. It got pretty bad and before I knew it, I was sitting in Dean Don's office, getting bandaged up and being told I was a nuisance."

The blonde frowned. "I don't understand why _you_ got kicked off, though. You're much better than he is. Saturday proved it."

"I know." Plovert shrugged. "Derrick tried to get me back on but his dad is adamant."

"His dad?"

"You really don't know anything, do you, Gregory?" Plovert teased, chuckling slightly, even though Kristen could tell he was anything but amused about the whole dilemma. "Derrick's dad is the varsity coach."

She blinked. "No. No, he's not."

"He is," Plovert nodded. "Has been for about ten years. Ever since the spot has been open and he couldn't play because of his injury."

"How come I didn't know this?"

"I'm surprised you didn't. I would have expected it from Massie or Alicia. Didn't you notice that his last name is Harrington?"

She shook her head. "I thought it was just a popular name."

"There is only one Harrington family in Westchester, Kris," he told her. "That's Derrick's family. He's the coach."

"And Derrick's on varsity? Isn't that… favoritism or something?"

"Nah." Plovert swung his backpack from his shoulder so he could put the books in his arms inside it. "He wasn't allowed to watch our try outs because he knew us. We got on because we were good. I got kicked off because I wasn't."

Kristen rubbed at her temples. "So do you know what this meeting is about after school?"

"Probably what they're going to do about it," he guessed. "Why?"

"I have to help Derrick with his chemistry work," she told him, carefully picking the words out just in case he hadn't told his friends he needed a tutor. She didn't want to embarrass him like that.

"Right." Plovert nodded. "Well, I would assume it would be when they're holding try outs."

"Don't you have second string players?"

"We do, but we always try them out- and anyone new- just in case. It's a precautionary tactic just in case Coach doesn't like the way the guy plays."

"Have you had to do this before?"

The bell rang overhead but neither of them moved. "Yeah," he said. "Last year. Do you remember Harris Griffiths?" Kristen said she did. "He was involved in some hate crime around October so he got expelled from school during the season. The guy who would have taken his spot had to be tried out with the rest of us in order to see if he was good enough. He wasn't so Coach held regular try outs for anyone who thought they were good enough. That's how we got Jared Bense- he only played that one year because he graduated."

Kristen bit down on her lower lip. "And now you have to do this all over again?"

"Apparently so," Plovert murmured. "The meeting itself doesn't talk too long. The team gets reprimanded for what the kid did, Coach discusses the importance of team unity, and then he'll explain what he wants to do this week. He wouldn't hold try outs today. Probably tomorrow or Friday. Derrick should be out by about four."

Kristen sighed. "Okay, so I have to ask Todd if he can meet me at three instead of four fifteen…"

"Do you tutor all of your kids on the same day?"

"Sometimes," she admitted, "but only when they have a test the next day. Todd has earth science tomorrow, Derrick has chemistry. I normally see them over the weekend. Derrick on Saturday. Todd on Sunday." She pulled at her ponytail, the sound of her schedule immediately stressing her out. "What about you?"

Plovert gripped the straps of his bag. "I tutor girls too," he told her. "So, I see Allie-Rose on Mondays and Gianna Reynolds on Wednesdays. Over the weekend, I do back-to-back Sunday sessions with Nathan Greenfeld and Kyle Saunders."

"That sounds like a lot of work."

"It's really not. Most of them are in the same classes so it's the same material at different times."

"Do yours cooperate?" asked Kristen. "Todd hates to do work and Derrick is never really paying attention."

"The girls are giggly," Plovert explained, "but the boys don't want to take the class over again. I think I scared them into studying all the time. Their grades have gone up drastically."

Kristen wrinkled her nose. "The girls probably like you," she advised. "Allie-Rose always had a thing for you when I was at OCD."

Plovert's cheeks reddened slightly. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." She looked down at her watch again, startled by the time (10:41 AM) and immediately worried if she would get a late pass sent to her parents. Her mother would _flip_ if she found out Kristen waltzed into class so late after the bell rang. "Uh, you have Harrison now, right?"

Plovert nodded, his face returning to its previous tanned color. "We should probably head over there now considering the bell rang eons ago. I can tell her you were in the office with me."

"That works?"

He flashed her a smile. "I _am_ the soon-to-be president of the sophomore class."

* * *

><p>"I'm literally almost there," he said softly, the raindrops falling around him.<p>

His hood wasn't doing all that much to keep him from getting wet, but he didn't mind the rain. It was nice. It was soothing. It kind of made him feel better about everything that was going on around him. Kind of.

School had just started and he absolutely hated it. Everyone told him that sophomore year would be the best; so far, it sucked. His best friend was an asshole, _he_ was an asshole, Massie Block was an asshole, his father was an asshole, and Plovert wasn't on the soccer team because Danny Robbins was an asshole.

So, yeah, his entire year was starting off _splendidly._

"It's raining, Derrick," the girl on the other line complained.

He rolled his eyes. "I know. I'm the one who has to do the walking."

"If my hair gets messed up-"

"Does it really matter?"

"No," she admitted after a moment's consideration. "Are you almost here?"

"Just got here. Where are you?"

"Under this big tree," she told him. "Dunkel was patrolling. I had to hide somewhere."

Derrick knew exactly what big tree she was talking about. There was only one big tree at OCD: the oak one that the Pretty Committee- that _Massie_- liked so much. He was trying not to think about her as much as he used to considering she was with his best friend (Cam was still that no matter what happened in their lives) but when things like this came up, things that were so blatantly _her_, it was hard not to.

That tree was her most favorite thing at OCD. It was in the middle of the campus where everyone could see her and she spent most of her time gossiping with the rest of her friends there. It was pretty, yes, but it was in the prime spot and that was why she liked it.

He just wished Olivia would have picked a different tree to hide behind.

He spotted her light blonde hair before he saw the rest of her and redirected his path. Eyeing the school carefully- last time with Allie-Rose he almost got caught- he trudged through the wet grass. The rain was letting up a little, still coming down though, and he felt his hair stick to his forehead as he walked. His hood was soaked. Why did the schools have to be so far from each other?

If he were being honest, Olivia looked nice. She always had; that was one of the reasons as to why she was part of the Twenty with Alicia back in the eighth grade. It was her body that boys liked the best and compared to Alicia, she was the perfect all-American girl. Her blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and dancer's body were what every boy loved, but Derrick had never really experienced that when it came to her.

He thought she was funny because she was a little dumb about certain things, but she was always nice and seemed to understand a little more. Maybe that was why he talked to her more than he kissed her, but right now, he was so aggravated that he just wanted to touch her before he exploded.

Massie seemed to like _everyone_ more than him. Plovert got to talk to her. Kemp got to walk to class with her. Josh fucking bought her yogurt. Cam was doing things Derrick used to do with her. He had seen her so many times before this lunch period he skipped that he was about to go crazy. She was selfish and annoying and obnoxious and conceited and everything Derrick wanted.

Since he couldn't have her, he could have the next best thing: a girl who knew what was going on and didn't really care; a girl who listened to him when he talked and tried to give him advice and let him kiss her when things got especially tough.

Olivia Ryan was aware he was using her and she didn't try to stop him.

"Hey."

"Hi," she greeted brightly. Noticing the look on his face, her expression dropped slightly. "What happened today?"

He sighed. "Can we not talk about it?"

"You're not going to feel any better if we don't," she reminded him.

"Can we talk about it later?"

"Later like after this or later like after school when you'll pretend you forgot we had to talk about it?"

"You're annoying, you know that?"

Olivia grinned. "I had a feeling I was." Her smile left as quickly as it came. "But in all seriousness, Derrick, you need to talk. You can't just keep everything inside like you used to."

"I can if I want to."

"Derrick…"

"I don't want to."

"What'd she do no-"

Olivia barely had time to finish her sentence and if she did, Derrick didn't listen. He quickly pulled her face towards his, smashing his lips against hers- and it sounded violent because it probably was; he had no etiquette when he was annoyed. It took her a second to respond, but she did, tilting her face to make it easier to kiss back.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and he pulled her body right against his, feeling her every curve. Tiny raindrops filtered between the branches of the trees, plopping in a rhythm on his head, but he could care less. If he closed his eyes and really tried to forget that this mouth was very different, he could pretend that this was Massie he was kissing and not Olivia Ryan.

* * *

><p>Again, Kemp understood that he was not very observant. He didn't notice when girls cut their hair or changed the color of their eyeliner. He never knew when an outfit was just bought at the mall. He didn't notice many things like that, but he noticed others.<p>

This week in particular proved that things were changing just slightly enough for him to realize it.

First, they kept sitting with the Pretty Committee- or, really, whichever members of the group were at their lunch table. Yesterday it had been Massie and Kristen. Today it was Alicia and Dylan. The two girls were gossiping the entire time, but they didn't seem to care that the boys were there. Kristen appeared after a while, looking distressed and confused, but she immediately joined in on not her friends' conversation but the boys'. They acted like they were all friends again.

Second, Derrick was constantly sneaking off, leaving class or always texting someone. Kemp knew that he was still hung up over Massie, but Derrick's change in personality and action were something different. He knew about Allie-Rose and all the girls and it was kind of making him uncomfortable. Derrick wasn't the type of kid to do that- to jump from one to another- and Kemp wanted to know what was going on his mind.

Another thing was Massie and Josh's relationship. _They_ hung out more than Josh did with his own girlfriend and Kemp was following the Claire and Josh situation like it was his mother's favorite soap opera. They were still dating from what he knew and he was starting to wonder if Josh was going to do anything about it, especially after what happened at Carson's party.

Speaking of Carson's party, Josh had been acting very strange ever since. Yes, the thing was very life-changing, but he was jumpy and always checking his phone every two seconds. Kemp was worried about him, especially since he told his friend he would always be there for him. Josh hadn't been telling him anything. And he had it up to _here_ with the panicked look on his face and his obsession with always looking over his shoulder.

Because of that, Kemp was going to do something about it.

He had no idea what was really going on, but he had a hunch. A really big hunch in the shape of three douchebags named Keith, James, and Owen. He knew exactly where to find them.

It was after school, right before the soccer meeting, and Kemp could care less if he was going to be late to that. He wasn't happy with what happened; Plovert should be on the team with them, not Danny Robbins. He didn't know why he got kicked off but it was a load of shit if you asked him. And he wasn't being biased.

Storming into the locker room, he angrily looked around to find the people he hated most. A sick sort of satisfaction filled him when he spotted them.

"Look who it is!" James cawed. "_Kemp Hurley_. Planning on joining the lacrosse team?"

"Why are you guys even in here? Lacrosse season doesn't start until spring."

Owen rolled his eyes. "We have try-outs, big shot."

"You wouldn't know what it's like to have your spot in jeopardy, would you?" Keith mocked. "Harrington's Daddy makes sure you guys stay on, right?"

"If that were the case, we wouldn't be holding our own try-outs _again_," Kemp hissed through gritted teeth. His fists balled up in his pockets.

James tutted. "I heard about that. So sad for Plovert. Maybe you guys will lose this year!" He paused. "Oh, wait… you lose _every year_."

Kemp wanted nothing more than to retaliate to his jabs, but remembered he wasn't here to defend his soccer team. He was here to fix things for Josh because that kid was allowed to have fun during his life, regardless of what the hell was going on with his sexuality. He didn't deserve to get mocked the way he was by these fucking pricks.

"What are you doing to Josh?" he snapped.

Their facial expressions changed drastically from angry teasing to confusion to something Kemp could not explain but it made him furious regardless.

"We're not doing anything to Josh," James murmured silkily.

"Cut the crap," Kemp snarled, aware that everyone in the room was staring at him. _Go away_, he wanted to tell them, _mind your own business_. This wasn't even his battle but Josh wasn't going to confront James and his team of assholes until it was too late and they scarred him too much.

"Excuse me?" Owen blinked innocently. "There is no crap to cut."

Kemp snorted at his idiocy. "I'm going to ask this again and if I don't get an answer, I _will_ hit you." He glared each of them in the eye before repeating his question.

"We're _not_-" Keith tried to lie, but Kemp remembered he was the one who put Josh in this situation in the first place and effectively kneed him in the balls.

Keith groaned loudly, bending over in pain. "Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck_ you_, Hurley." His breathing was coming out in pants.

"Try to lie to me one more time," Kemp threatened, "and _that_ will happen to you as well."

James smirked. "We're _not_ lying to you, Hurley. We're telling the truth. I have no idea what's going on with Hotz."

"I know what you did, asswipe," Kemp snapped. "He told me. You better start telling me why you're making him so paranoid."

"Maybe he's just a paranoid person. Ever thought about that?"

"Do you _want_ to keep your dicks or…?"

Owen looked slightly panicked but didn't say anything. Keith was still trying to get himself together.

James sighed. "It's not _our_ fault he can't come to terms with his sexuality. We were just trying to _help_ him."

"_Help him_?" Kemp repeated, coughing out a fake laugh. "Why don't I help you fall in a fucking ditch then? Isn't that the same thing?"

The ringleader rolled his eyes at him. "You don't understand. I'm a very nice person," he explained, smirking. "Unlike you, I want to make sure everyone is comfortable with themselves."

"Fuck you," Kemp hissed. "You're sending him text messages that make him uncomfortable! I've seen the way he's looked over his shoulder! You're not doing _anything_ to make him comfortable. You're making him_ un_comfortable!"

"How do you know all of this?" Owen demanded uneasily. "Is he showing you?"

James elbowed him in the gut, urging him to shut up or he'd blow their cover.

Kemp crossed his arms over his chest. "Hiding something, are you, Ridder?"

"At least I'm not a homo," he retorted, unable to find anything else to say.

"You're only making someone question their own sexuality for your entertainment." Kemp narrowed his eyes into his best glare. "I'm sure that makes you _so_ much better."

"This isn't doing you any good, Hurley," Ridder snapped in a futile retort. "You just look like you're his lover or something."

"I'm his friend," Kemp told him angrily, "and I'm trying to make this less painful that you've made sure it was. I don't care what you think of me or anyone else for that matter, but it's really fucking sick that you're trying to ruin him in one of the worst ways possible."

"_Kemp_-"

"No. I'm done listening to you," Kemp interrupted, his voice hard and steely. "You're going to listen to _me_ now. What you're doing to Josh is fucking immature and wrong and it's people like you that make me think the world is falling to fucking pieces. Whoever Josh likes is none of your concern, no matter _what_ you did to him. He is his own person and he can make all of his own decisions. It is not up to you- _any of you_- to do that for him. I want you to leave him alone. For good."

"And if we don't?" James demanded, his gaze meeting Kemp's furiously.

Kemp smiled, showing his teeth. He wasn't aware of what he looked like but Owen shrunk away. "You don't want to find out what I'll do to you."

James cleared his throat. "I'm not scared of you."

"You should be," Kemp threatened, shouldering past Keith and making his way out of the locker room.

* * *

><p>Todd looked up from his work, watching Kristen carefully. She was grateful that he could meet with her an hour earlier than planned, but she was still antsy. About what, she didn't know. All she wanted was to find out what was going on with Derrick and Plovert and the soccer team; she could hardly concentrate on the task at hand.<p>

"As riveting as this is," he started off, "I don't think you're all that into earth science at the moment."

She shook her head rapidly. "No, no, I am," she disagreed. "You have a test tomorrow, so…"

"I've been studying!" he exclaimed. "Look. I've gotten all of these review questions right so far."

"That's good, but you need to get the entire _packet_ right," she informed him. "Your teacher wants nothing less than an eighty-five on this exam."

"I'll do better than that," Todd told her. "My dad's been quizzing me while he makes dinner."

Kristen nodded. "That's good. Having family help is always good."

"You're distracted," he pointed out. "We have time for a break, don't we?"

She shrugged, checking the time. They had about fifteen minutes before Derrick said he would text her about what was going on with him and when would be best to meet up. She didn't understand why she was so worried about it. "I don't know."

"We do." Todd pushed his study materials away and clasped his hands together. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

Todd eyed her curiously. "What's gotten you so out of whack?"

"Nothing," she told him. "Nothing important, that is."

"Nothing important?" Todd cocked his head to the side. "I find that highly doubtful. It has to be important or else it wouldn't be consuming your every thought. Normally you're so thrilled to be teaching me things."

Kristen sighed. "I _am_ thrilled, Todd, it's just…"

"You're wondering what's going on with the soccer team?" he prompted, smiling secretively.

"Am I that easy to read?"

"No, I just figured it out," he answered, "and I overheard your conversation with Plovert earlier in the day."

She wasn't surprised. Todd had always been a sneaky child. "It's just… I don't understand why they would do that, why they would change the line up like that when it worked, you know? Danny should have been kicked off, not Plovert."

"Maybe…" Todd began slowly, a thoughtful look upon his face. "Maybe this is a good thing."

"This is _not_ a good thing," Kristen shot back, appalled. "How could you say that?"

"Let me finish!" he insisted, silencing her.

Kristen looked at him expectantly. He blushed slightly, but forged on: "Maybe Plovert's getting kicked off the team is so someone else can get on it."

She quirked an eyebrow, watching Todd as he explained the whole thing out. Was he trying to insinuate that _she_ should try out for the team? That was… that was absurd. It was a _boys _team and-

"You should go for it," he urged. "And don't say you can't. You can."

"Todd-"

"If Danny Robbins can stay on the team, I'm sure _you_ can try out for it," he kept insisting.

"I don't think Coach Harrington or Dean Don would approve."

"They aren't standing in your way," Todd told her. He looked, and sounded, wiser than his age. Kristen wondered how he got that way. "_You_ are standing in your way."

"But what if they don't let me?"

Todd lips turned into a small smile. "You'll never know unless you try," he told her. "And if they say no, then at least you know because you looked into it, not because you were just assuming."

"You really think I should try out for Briarwood's team?"

"You miss it. I've noticed that much," the younger boy explained and for some reason, Kristen felt herself being moved. She wanted to do what he was saying; she wanted to listen to him and go for what she wanted. What she wanted wasn't this- it wasn't tutoring or trying to recover any semblance of her previous resume. She longed to play soccer again, to run across the field with a crowd watching her every move…

"And out of any girl I know," he pressed on, "you are the only one I believe can do this." He paused briefly, making eye contact with her. "I would be extremely disappointed if you didn't go after what you wanted."

After that, they focused on his earth science notes and prepping him for the test, like they always did. Even after his session was up and Derrick texted her to tell her he would be at the library in ten minutes, his words never really escaped her mind.

She didn't understand why she was focusing on them so much, but she knew for some inexplicable reason that she didn't want to disappoint Todd Lyons.

Maybe she would talk to Derrick about it after they were done studying. He'd probably have some information for her.


	22. twenty one

this is such a long chapter. i hope i've incorporated a lot of things that you guys were asking for! i tried :)

right now, i'm re-planning this whole story so it might be awhile for the next update. sorry!

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><p>"Are you sure you don't want us to wait?" Massie asked Dylan, slipping her arms into the sleeves of her patterned coat. It had been unnaturally chilly for mid-September, forcing the entire group of girls to don their fall jackets in fear of freezing in their flimsy Briarwood uniforms.<p>

The redhead shook her head, her long mane of straight- it took her _ages_ to get it perfect- hair shimmying and shining in the fluorescent light. "No. I'll be good."

"If you're sure…" Alicia looked a bit skeptical, but forced a smile and kissed her friend on the cheek for luck.

Dylan watched her friends move through the halls as one before disappearing into the bright sunlight of the afternoon. She took a deep breath, smoothing her hands down her jeans, making a face at the size of her thighs. After her last class had ended, she and Kristen had raced to the nurse's office to get her changed into something date-appropriate. She wasn't doing anything too special with Landon, but she wanted to make sure she didn't wear this horrendous outfit wherever she went with him. Jeans and a simple top seemed to do the trick. Massie had said she looked casual chic but quite frankly, Dylan felt fat.

She always felt fat. It wasn't just Kemp and Plovert she had to blame; they just added fuel to the fire. She was self-conscious before any of those messages came along and she guessed they confirmed her fears more than a mirror could. If other people thought she looked the way she saw herself looking, they _had_ to be true.

But boys like Landon came along and changed everything. Slowly but surely she was starting to feel more confident about herself. Sure, she avoided foods and barely ate when she was supposed to, but she was starting to forget that she wasn't a size zero. There were girls out there who didn't look like Alicia or Massie and they rocked it. Why couldn't Dylan?

It was nice to feel this way again. She could be a little bigger than the rest and still be beautiful. She really could.

Boys were still moving about around her, hurrying to their lockers or out of the school. She was the only one silly enough to stay inside the building when the final bell rang, but this was where she and Landon agreed to meet.

She had no idea where his locker was, but she hoped he would hurry up. It was getting awkward waiting for him. Maybe she should have let Massie stay…

_No_, a voice in her head scolded. That would make her seem dependent on her friends and she didn't want him to think she was. She could do things on her own even if they intimidated her. She'd have to eventually anyway.

Her gaze flickered from the various staircases around the central part of the building as she awaited Landon's arrival. She watched almost everyone come down from the second floor with their backpacks, but didn't see him. She saw Derrick and Josh, heading towards the gymnasium. Kemp was stalking through the halls on his own, looking the epitome of absolute anger. She vaguely wondered who pissed him off, but then realized she didn't care. He was an asshole to her and he hadn't even apologized. Or acknowledge her existence. Cool.

Danny Robbins took the side door out of the school. Kristen sent a wave her way as she scurried to the library. Todd's friend Tiny Nathan was with someone twice his height who kind of looked like him. Brother maybe? Claire rushed through, her backpack hardly on her shoulder, talking on the phone. Dylan realized she hadn't seen her in a while and almost called out to her so they could talk, but Claire was out of the school before she could even open her mouth. Weird.

She saw James Ridder and friends, only able to recognize them because Kristen described him to her. She went to one of their lacrosse games last year but wasn't that interested, she remembered. She was there with the girls and the boys before the big falling out and spent most of her time trying to impress Kemp and Plovert. Only to be called a pig about a month later.

And speaking of Plovert… there he was, right in front of her, smiling his awkward half-grin she had liked so much and fixing his glasses, which were sliding down his nose.

"Um," was all she could think of saying. What did one say to the boy who practically ruined her entire summer?

"I know this seems weird," he started. She was more than relieved that he was taking the initiative here or else she would have stammered and stuttered until things got even more awkward than they already were. "And that I haven't spoken to you in months but… I'm sorry."

She quirked an eyebrow. Was Plovert _apologizing_?

"Look, I know you probably want nothing to do with me and that you probably don't even want to listen to me right now, but it's the right thing to do." He licked his lips. "I've been trying to do that lately. You know, the right thing, and I'd have to start where the wrong things all began before I could do that." He eyed her curiously, taking a deep breath. "You know you could say something right now."

Dylan pursed her lips. "I'm listening."

He made a face that clearly said _really_? but continued regardless. "Last year, I was immature and petty. I was trying to be something I wasn't, trying to become this vision of popularity I had seen so many times. I was influenced so much but my cousin that the only thing I knew was the things he did. And Dylan, Danny is horrible to girls no matter what. Even if he likes them, he's a complete dick, so I thought it would be okay to follow his lead. After all, his advice was to 'play hard to get, remain aloof'. Incidentally, he was just setting me up for failure.

"And Dylan, I really did like you. You were cool and it was awesome the way you didn't care about the fact that you were eating food in front of boys and acting like a real person. It just became a little _much _after a while, you know? I literally felt like I was with the guys at some points when I was just with you so I did what I did, hoping you'd get the hint. I know that's no excuse for the way I made you feel but since it seems like we're all trying to get along again, I thought apologizing would be the best way to start fresh."

"Do you know what you and Kemp put me through?" she questioned. "Do you know exactly how it feels to get sent pictures of your _face_ on a pig?" Plovert avoided her gaze, staring down at the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "No, Chris, you don't. You're the most popular sophomore at this school and you only know what you get handed to you on a silver platter. You and Kemp took my biggest insecurity and threw it right in my face, reminding me that I'm _not_ what people in Westchester think is beautiful, that I'm not what boys like to look at. I used to be so content with myself, so proud that I could look like this and still be part of the most popular female clique, but then you're making me second guess myself and actually wonder _am I really fat_? _Am I really a pig_? I spent three months trying to make sure that I wasn't, Chris, just to have you two remind me every single day that I _was_."

The area around her wasn't as crowded anymore but she wasn't focused on looking for her after school date. All she saw was Plovert and all she remembered was how she was humiliated and degraded because of the way she was as a person. Last year had been absolute hell.

"I'll admit that I didn't make the best decisions for a while, but I've grown up, Dylan," Plovert tried to convince her, his voice taking on a begging sort of whine. "I don't want you to think that I don't believe you're pretty. You _are_. You'll always be one of the prettiest girls I know because you're aware of yourself and you don't take anyone's shit. It upsets me that you took mine because I was angry and confused and the lowest of the low. I knew how you felt about yourself, how even though you acted like you weren't bothered by it, you were. I knew exactly where to hit you the hardest and I did it, forgetting all about gentlemanly boundaries and the like. I'm so sorry I crumbled your self-esteem the way I did. I can't take back what I've done no matter how much I wish I could. I regret everything I've ever sent you, every harmful word I've ever said, and even though I don't deserve it, I wish you'd forgive me so we can become friends again."

Dylan bit down on her lower lip. It was sweet that he was doing this, even if it was three months too late, but she still felt the betrayal deep down in her stomach. "Chris," she began slowly, trying to formulate a response. No one- no _boy_ for that matter- had ever taken the time out of his day to speak to her in such a way, to apologize, that it was almost so easy to accept him. Then she remembered the way she felt, the way the mirror made her look, and all sympathy washed away. "I can't just accept your apology like that. You can't walk away from this with just a 'sorry', I hope you understand that."

Plovert nodded, looking crestfallen.

"But this is me trying to be the bigger person, a _better_ person, so I'm acknowledging what you said. I've listened and I understand where you're coming from, but I don't think we can become friends because of what you did to me." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, sighing tiredly. This conversation was exhausting. "I mean it when I say that I don't think you understand what you did to me. What you're still doing to me. It was something I never thought I'd ever have to go through because when I was confident, I didn't think people would try to bring me down, but even popular people have insecurities. It's easy to forget that. And it's easy to forget that because they're in the spotlight so much, there are so many people who are trying to bring them down with those very same insecurities."

"I wasn't trying to bring you down, Dylan." Plovert rubbed at his neck. "I was just being a spiteful fourteen year old who hated you and your friends for messing with our feelings. It barely registered in my mind the lasting effects this could have on you and I'm absolutely disgusted with myself. My mother raised me better than this; it would kill her if she found out that I tore you apart piece by piece because I was trying to get back at you."

"I won't tell your mom," she promised, "as long as you stop doing this. To me. To any other girl out there that might get on your bad side. It's not a good idea to prod at someone like that. You never know what you might do. Words hurt, Chris, and I think you've learned that from this."

"I stopped weeks ago," he told her, "and I never planned on picking it back up. It just took me a while to build the courage to apologize to you. This is the worst thing I've ever done to a girl. I just wish I could take it back."

Dylan smiled sadly at him. She wished he could take it back too. If he hadn't done this, they would've been cute together. If he still liked her by this point, that is. He was a really nice boy. "You can't," she told him unnecessarily, "but I hope this has opened your eyes to things you wouldn't have been exposed to before, that you can take from this a lesson that will help you in the future."

Plovert nodded. "You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would have."

"You're not the only one who matured as a person," she told him. "We've all learned a thing or two from the past three months."

"Well, I'm still so sorry," he murmured. "I hope one day we can move past this and be friends. You're really cool."

She smiled and agreed, her heart hurting just a little bit. It was sad that something like this had to turn Chris Plovert into the sweetest person in Westchester. It was even sadder that it had to happen to her. Regardless of his newly found personality and his grown-up look on life, he was still the boy- one of them- that brought her to take drastic measures against her own body when she looked perfectly acceptable. That would never change. Neither would the humility she felt every day when she opened her phone to a new pig message. _That_ she would always remember.

He walked off, ambling in the direction of the far left staircase, leaving Dylan to her own thoughts in front of the school's front doors. The whole conversation left her with so many things to really ponder and she did so as she waited without realizing that a half hour had passed and Landon Crane was a no show.

* * *

><p>Massie gripped her dog leash tightly in her hand, loving the way the early fall wind felt against her face. She really enjoyed her evening walks with Bean; it gave her time to think about the day and mull over her outfit choice for the next day. It was peaceful and quiet. No one on her block really left their houses at eight, so she was basically alone with her puppy, something she liked more than she let on.<p>

Today, she had a lot to think about. It was the first full day without her mother being around. William was trying to do his best to make things normal even though things were never normal to begin with. It was weird to see him home after school and he was even weirder to hear him say that he was moving his office into the study so he could spend more time with her. Even Inez seemed confused, unsure if she should actually clean around him or not. She did anyway but it took her about ten minutes to get used to another person besides Massie being in the house.

In all honesty, she didn't know how to feel about Kendra leaving them. It stung a little considering she left her multimillion dollar husband for a man who gardened for a living. But even worse, it hurt her directly because she left Massie for this man, not even bothering to explain to her what was going on or why she was doing it. She just up and left. No note. No early morning conversation. Just gone.

Massie guessed that was a good thing. She probably wouldn't have been able to handle this the way she was if Kendra had stopped to discuss things with her. She was a little glad that wasn't her mother's style or she might have been an even bigger mess.

Massie's head was starting to pound just thinking about it when her phone rang. She was extremely grateful for the distraction. Fumbling to pull it out of her pocket without dropping Bean's leash, she glanced at the name (Dylan) and answered on the third ring.

She was waiting for this phone call all day, unable to determine when the redhead would have gotten back from her date with Landon to properly call her on her own. She figured she would give her some space afterwards, let her shower and all. She knew Dylan would call her eventually. She always did.

"Hey!" the brunette greeted, allowing Bean to lead the way as she chatted. "How'd the date go?"

"It didn't," Dylan grumbled without so much as a hello.

Bean sniffed enthusiastically at the ground, stopping at every sign, gate, and tree to investigate the various scents. "What do you mean?" Massie asked, nibbling on her lower lip. "Was it not good?"

"It didn't happen," her friend replied. "He never showed."

"_What_?" asked Massie, appalled. Bean continued to tug her forward; she almost stumbled on the uneven sidewalk by Carter Street. "He didn't show?"

"No." Dylan sighed. "I waited for forty-five minutes before I gave up. I was stupid to think he was even interested. He probably thought it would be funny to get my hopes up."

Massie shook her head. "Alicia said he was nice at the gala, though…"

"Maybe he's only nice to pretty girls."

"Then he would be nice to you, Dyl. Don't be stupid."

"I'm not pretty like you, Mass," Dylan mumbled. "Or Alicia. Obviously he'd be nice to her. Who could ever _not_ be?"

"There are people who don't like her," Massie informed her friend, feeling extremely upset with the way things turned out. "Skye doesn't for one."

"Okay, that's _one_ person. There are so many more who adore her. I should have realized this was stupid."

"It wasn't stupid, Dylan-"

"It was!" she interjected. "I bet you he thought it would be hysterical to ask the fat one to hang out and then just _ditch_ her. He was probably waiting around the corner with his friends, laughing at how pathetic I looked."

"No," Massie urged, trying to calm her dog down. Bean was adamant as ever to practically run everywhere. She had never experienced her dog to be _this _energetic before. "It's his loss. You're a beautiful girl and for whatever reason he did this, he's the stupid one. Not you."

"It's because I'm fat, I know," Dylan complained. "Don't try to sugarcoat it. I can handle the truth. I've seen myself before."

Massie rubbed her forehead in exasperation, the rough material of the leash irritating her skin slightly. "Dylan," she began, "you are _not_ fat. If I thought you were, I would tell you. You're a gorgeous girl. He's the loser in this scenario, not you."

Dylan was silent for a moment. "I'm always the loser, Massie. I come out at the bottom constantly. I never get what I want, I get made fun of for being me-"

"If this is about Plovert and Kemp's text messages, I told you not to read them. They're wrong. They're _all_ wrong. You're perfect and gorgeous and witty and a great size. _Anyone_ would be lucky to have you."

"You're just saying that because you're my best friend."

"I'm saying it because it's the truth," Massie corrected, stumbling yet again because of the force her dog was exerting. Bean hurried around the corner as her owner listened to her friend vent on the phone.

"Really? You wouldn't lie to me?"

Bean tugged once more as she raced down the block. "I lie about a lot of things, Dylan, but-" She trailed off as her grip on the leash loosened. "But this is not-" Massie tried again, this time stopping when Bean ran once more and she lost the leash altogether. "_Bean_!" she shouted. "Stop! Don't move! Don't run! Sorry, Dylan, I have to go- Bean just ran away from me and I have to go get her."

She ended the call then, rudely interrupting Dylan mid-sentence as she raced after her dog.

What was up with Bean tonight? She never acted like that before in her life. She didn't like to run, much like Alicia, only doing so when it was absolutely necessary. Or when it was windy. She loved the wind. The weather was more neutral than anything tonight so the reasoning behind Bean's energetic mood was a mystery.

Massie clutched her phone in her hand, following Bean's general direction. She swung around the corner, calling out, "_Bean! Bean! _Come on, this isn't funny!"

Narrowing her eyes, she tried to spot her pug, cursing herself for thinking a black puppy was a good idea all those years ago. She really blended in with the night sky.

She desperately tried to listen out for the familiar yip, but it never came. She wouldn't know what to do with herself if she lost Bean. She was the only one who seemed to understand her the best. So, yet again, she called out to her, cupping her hands around her mouth: "Bean!"

Her shout seemed to echo but she noticed a figure down the block… with a familiar dog-like figure. Her heart seemed to calm itself down, but she would not be happy until Bean was back in her house, curled up in her little doggy bed like she was every night.

It didn't take her that long to make it down the street and she was more than relieved to see that _yes_, it was her dog. Thank the heavens. She had lost so much this week she wouldn't have been able to deal with losing Bean.

"I'm so sorry," she blurted upon seeing her dog practically slobber all over this stranger's hand. "She just seemed to escape me and-"

"It's fine, Block. You know I don't mind Bean." The person handed over the leash, fingers brushing against hers ever so slightly as they did so.

Massie swallowed, nodding wordlessly. _Block_. Derrick had found her dog. Derrick Harrington, who she was trying to avoid because she was confused and something with his best friend, had found her dog, waited, let her lick him, handed her over, and called his ex-girlfriend Block as if it didn't mean so much to both of them. Right. Him.

She wanted to say that her heart wasn't pounding as erratically as it was. She wanted to say that her mind hadn't gone blank at the sound of his voice so late at night. She wanted to say that his touch hadn't sent goosebumps up and down her arms. She wanted to say that all romantic feelings she had for him hadn't rushed to the forefront of her body at that very moment.

But if she said that, she would be lying and she already started to make that resolution to stop lying so often when Dylan sounded so dubious on the phone earlier.

So there she was with an erratically pounding heart, a blank mind, goosebump'd arms, and romantic feelings she had no control over. She hadn't been expecting it to hit her all at once like that, right in front of him, but she had been ignoring it for so long it _had_ to come out eventually.

"Thank you," she murmured at what felt like the worst moment ever. Hopefully he didn't notice anything different with her.

"No problem. Lucky I was here, right?"

She made the mistake of looking up at him. Even though it was dark out and the streetlights weren't helping the slightest, she could still see his smile, which those very same lights were not doing justice.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Lucky." She was too busy trying not look like she was staring, but it was hard not to when she used to have his every crevice basically memorized. His hair was getting too long- she wondered if she should suggest he get it cut but swallowed the urge; he still had a myriad of freckles adorning his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His eyes were still sparkling with mischievousness like they used to. His lips- she used to be so familiar with them- were curved into that stupid grin that left her feeling so very… well, awful.

Bean whined at Massie, pulling her arm back the direction she came. Derrick chuckled. "Looks like she wants to go home." He nodded down at her dog.

"Probably," Massie agreed, falling back awkwardly into her usual persona. "She must be tired from her out-of-character sprint around the neighborhood."

"Maybe she was just happy to smell me," Derrick suggested cockily, his smile returning with full force as if he knew exactly what it was doing to Massie.

"Debatable," she found herself saying, a teasing lilt in her voice. "She was just excited with the weather. Bean loves fall."

Okay, that wasn't necessarily true, but… whatever.

Derrick shrugged, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. "Say what you want, Block."

_Block. Stop calling me that_, she thought hurriedly. Every time he said it, it was like another memory of their disaster of a relationship hit her close to home and she wanted nothing more than to rid herself of these feelings she was currently experiencing. After all, he called her immature.

"I guess I better get back then." Massie tried not to sound too regretful. "She'll get cranky if I don't listen to her soon."

"Wait," he called and she turned to watch him bite his lip shyly. _Stop stop stop_. "Let me walk you home."

"What?" Did he really just…?

"It's dark. You never know what could happen." He shrugged like this was completely normal, like he always escorted his ex-girlfriend home when she walked her dog at night.

And that is how Massie found herself walking side by side with Derrick Harrington, the only boy to effectively break her heart, on a September evening.

It was amazing how typical it felt. They slipped back into the roles that had previously played in each other's lives, acting as if they had never stopped talking. He asked her how she thought Briarwood was; she was curious about his tutoring with Kristen. They both answered each other's inquiries as if they had never parted once before, as if certain circumstances hadn't torn them apart. It was hard to ignore the way his very presence was making her feel when they worked with each other like this.

She had been so good at pretending he was nothing to her. For a while he was since he wasn't such a permanent figure in her life, but then Briarwood came along and he was there constantly and she was reminded of what used to be versus what wasn't. This walk just reminded her of everything she could have had if she hadn't been everything he hadn't wanted.

Too soon she was at her iron gates, gripping her dog in order to keep her from running off again as she and Derrick finished off their conversation.

"You never did tell me why you were around here," she reminded him of her earlier question (which he had avoided answering for ten minutes). "Isn't your house, like, all the way across town?"

He nod-shrugged. "I was at Olivia's."

"Oh. Are you guys a thing or something?"

"Or something," he murmured, looking at her for far too long. "Well." He swallowed. "I'd better get going. I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Tomorrow."

With a half-hearted smile and wave, he turned away from her, waltzing down the block as if he owned it. Massie watched him go, feeling her heart slowly drop to her feet as he got further and further away. Derrick was 'or something' with Olivia the same way she was 'or something' with Cam… and for some reason, that made her want to punch a wall and cry.

She shouldn't even be feeling this way. He didn't want her. He had made that perfectly clear over the summer. Why was it that her heart never seemed to be in agreement with her head?

* * *

><p>The next day at school had been highly boring. At some points it went by so quickly Kristen wasn't able to comprehend how time went by that fast and others, the day dragged on and on. In art, they finally started a new unit of painting and Claire was unsurprisingly absent. Ever since the party, she had been coming in 'late' to school or just not even showing to her first class. No one knew why because they couldn't get her to stop long enough to ask her what was up. They knew something was wrong with her family life, Massie <em>did<em> live right next door, but she never opened up to discuss it. Or anything, really.

Math proved to be more difficult, but Mr. Jenks allowed her to switch seats with a boy named Kevin so she could sit by Cam instead of James. This was a good thing because suddenly Kristen was understanding the material better than she had before. Probably because Cam was good at math, but mainly because James wasn't there to turn around and talk with her.

The rest of the day went by like a blur until she hit lunch, where the entire group (minus Claire, of course) for the first time all week managed to eat together. Even the boys were there. There were no fights, no weird feelings, and Kemp even took Dylan aside to talk to her 'privately'. Kristen had heard the Plovert apologizing story earlier in the day with the rest of the girls; she was secretly impressed with his integrity. Not many people got admit to their mistakes like that and go out of their way to express regret the way he had. It seemed like Kemp was taking a leaf out of his book as well despite the fact that Dylan probably said the exact same thing she said to Plovert (I'm acknowledging your apology but I don't think we can be friends). At least they were all being mature about it. Some fifteen year olds couldn't do that.

Cam and Massie were being sickeningly adorable again- he helped her with her homework and talked about the little things that happened yesterday. She told him that Bean had run off last night during their walk, but Derrick was in the area luckily, which resulted in a weird sort of change in the air. Josh frowned at the blonde and Cam stared curiously, but Derrick shrugged, explaining he was at Olivia's after dinner and shared a secret smile with Massie, as if they had their own inside joke. The look on Plovert's face literally said _what the fuck, man, we need to talk_.

After that the conversation shifted to the impending soccer tryouts which made Kristen feel shaky and antsy. Could she just drop out? She had talked to Dean Don about it early in the morning and he looked it up in the Briarwood handbook. Nowhere had it said that she couldn't try, but he told her not to get her hopes up because it was a boys' team after all and Coach Harrington was most likely looking for an extraordinary male. At the time, she wasn't worried about it but as time ticked on, she was getting more and more nervous, doubting herself and her abilities. Maybe she shouldn't be doing it…

But Derrick chose that very moment to announce that if he had any say in who made the team, he was going to urge his father to pick her, something that every boy at the table agreed to. Plovert said he would rather have her take his spot considering she was an awesome player and had already worked with the Briarwood team once before (secretly, of course). Kemp thought she was one of the best female players in the district. Josh, being Josh, said he would be honored to work with her and Cam just smiled and nodded.

It was that boost in her self-esteem that helped her get through the remainder of the day without so much as a care in the world. Hearing five of the most talented high school soccer players compliment her was actually so sweet and empowering.

Unfortunately, sitting next to Dempsey Solomon and some kid she didn't even know erased all that she felt about herself, leaving her a nervous, shaky mess as Coach Harrington boomed and yelled above her.

"Is he always like this?" she whispered to Derrick on her left.

He silently chuckled. "Yeah," he agreed. "He's always loud."

"_Really_ loud," Josh put in, leaning forward from his spot behind her. "You'll get used to it soon."

"Do you guys _have_ to be here?" she muttered, pulling at blades of grass around her feet.

"Are we making you uneasy?" teased Derrick, his smile sparkling the light. Kristen made a face at him. "It's okay to feel intimidated."

"Intimidated?" she repeated, coughing out a few giggles. "As if _you_ intimidate me. I don't think I can take this seriously if you guys are here. I'm going to laugh the entire time."

Josh snorted. "I was going to be your personal cheerleader… Is that out of the question now?"

"_Josh_," she whined. "Stop it."

"You're gonna get it anyway," Derrick informed her smartly. "I just know it."

Kristen frowned. "How?"

"Well, look at who showed up." He waved his hand around vaguely, barely listening to his own father as he grumbled on and on about the rules and regulations. "I've played Solomon before- his technique is less than stellar while yours is probably top notch. That kid over there is the JV goalie so I don't know why he's here because _hello_, I'm going nowhere. Richards over there was Plovert's backup but he was never good enough to make it on the field, like, _ever_."

"Don't say that," Kristen scolded. "They could be good."

"I never said they weren't," Derrick retorted. "I said they weren't good _enough_."

"Rude," Josh countered. "You said that about me!"

"That's when I thought you wanted to be goalie." Derrick shrugged. "You're very good at what you do, Hotz."

Josh slapped his hand against his chest. "That just warms my heart, D."

Derrick smiled cheekily at him. "That was my intention, my friend."

"Derrick, stop gossiping and help me out here!" his father yelled, face red. Kristen decided she was afraid of him. He was more intimidating than trying out in front of all these boys.

The blonde sighed. "I'm not even the captain," he muttered. "Why do I have to help?"

"You're my son," Coach Harrington announced. "Besides, Jefferies can't do it all on his own."

Making a face behind his father's back, Derrick squeezed Kristen's shoulder reassuringly and stood to do whatever he was being called on to do. Josh slipped into his vacant spot once he was gone and Kristen was very relieved to have a friendly face beside her. She was doubting herself again- maybe she should just forget about ever playing soccer. After all, her parents wanted her to get into a college academically, not athletically…

Who even thought she'd be able to keep up with these guys? The Sirens were good but they weren't _Tomahawks_ good. There was a distinct difference. Briarwood made it the farthest out of the two teams obviously since they came home with a national title. The Sirens were never _that_ good. They were just so-so with a few extraordinary players like Kori, Mikayla Swerdin of the now-senior class, Genevieve Riorta of the junior class, and Kristen herself. It was because of them that they managed to get far in the league, but that didn't mean Kristen qualified to play in _this_ league.

Boys were a completely different ballpark. She knew that much from experience. Who knew what could happen?

"Kristen, stop," Josh urged her quietly. It was then that she realized his hand was on top of hers, warming her freezing fingers. They always got cold when she was nervous.

"I'm not doing anything," she insisted, trying to pull away from his touch.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're second guessing yourself."

"You can't tell that."

"I'm a people-watcher, Kristen," he informed her, "and I can tell. You look like you're going to throw up any second now, so _stop_ thinking for once."

"I can't just stop thinking, Josh. Everyone thinks no matter what."

"You can take a break." He twisted his hat so it was now on backwards. "Listen to me. This whole thing here- it has nothing to do with thoughts. You overthink even the smallest of steps and the whole play is done. You have to believe in yourself enough to know that you won't fuck up. It's about your body, your feet, and the ball. All of it is inside of you; it should require nothing but the sudden _aha_ feeling you get when you know exactly what to do. If you have to think about it for longer than a millisecond, you shouldn't even be on that field." He paused, letting her mull what he said over. "Do you get it?"

Kristen nodded. She did get it. She understood exactly where he was coming from. It was one of the first things she had learned as a soccer player. It was all about the intuition and the comprehension of the game. She had seen one too many players over the last couple of years ruin their chances of becoming even better because they hit a point where they were constantly doubting themselves and not playing the way they should. She never wanted to turn into one of those people but it felt like she was headed down that path… just because she was worried about being the only girl on a team of boys. That is, if she was good enough for them.

(There she went again- wondering if she was 'good enough')

"Are you the type of person to play or think?"

"Play," was her automatic response.

"Then you shouldn't be worried about anything," Josh told her honestly, smiling slightly. "If you play the way I've seen you play, this will be a piece of cake. Like Derrick said, Solomon's technique is shit, Plovert's backup sucks, and that other kid is made to be a goalie, not a midfield. You, Kristen, _are_ the definition of midfield."

"You think so?"

Josh flicked her shoulder. "I _know_ so."

She was silent for a second, wondering when she started needing someone else to give her soccer pep talks. She used to be the one giving them. _She_ used to be the captain of the eighth grade team. She was the one everyone was looking at when the Sirens were on the team. She was one of OCD's best players. She didn't need someone else to tell her all this- she knew it.

"Do you believe in yourself, Kristen?"

"Yes," she answered strongly.

"Do you believe you can go out there and play to the best of your ability?"

"Yes."

"Then go get 'em."

Suddenly, she realized everyone was looking at her, including both Harringtons and Kemp from the other end of the mass of boys. She blinked twice, staring blankly at them and then turning her head to gaze inquiringly at Josh. "What?"

"It's your turn."

Kristen literally felt all the color drain from her face. Her legs felt like jelly. Everyone was looking at her like she was basketcase and she guessed she was. After all, what girl in their right mind would be trying out for a _boys' soccer team_? No one sane, that's who.

"Josh," she blurted when she finally found her voice again. They were _still _staring. "I think I'm going to throw up."

He gave her that _you're really not going to _look of his and merely said, "Please do not throw up on me."

* * *

><p>Somehow, the four girls had managed to squeeze into a table for two at this new Yogitwist place they had found in Westchester's expensive little town square. Dylan moodily played with her Reese's flavor, her straight hair now frizzing back into its usual curls. Kristen was more focused on downing her water bottle rather than trying her strawberry sorbet. Massie and Alicia were currently taste-testing each other's, deciding that they were both equally as good, but the former liked her choice of red velvet a little more than the mint chocolate chip.<p>

"Wait, so he literally just didn't show?" the blonde asked after her bottle ran empty.

Dylan nodded. "I waited for forty-five minutes and he just… never came."

Alicia pouted. "He's not worth it, Dyl. I wouldn't sweat it. He's friends with Danny."

"So? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Danny got Chris kicked off the soccer team, remember? He's a complete jerk."

"They both are, so…"

The Latina bit down on her lip. "Chris is a nice guy, Dylan. I know he did some sucky stuff to you in the past but he apologized and-"

"Are you seriously defending him right now?" The redhead picked her head up to glare at her, green eyes flashing dangerously. "What has he ever done to warrant that response out of you?"

Alicia swallowed. "Uh… nothing, I just-"

"So why are you saying he's a nice guy?" Dylan questioned harshly. "You're friends with _me_, not _him_. You shouldn't be trying to make him look better."

Massie sighed, watching as Alicia's eyes uncharacteristically filled with tears. "Dyl, I know you're upset, but don't take it out on Alicia. She's allowed to have opinions you don't agree with."

"Do you agree with her then? Do you think Chris is a nice guy even after the messages he sent me?"

"I don't think anything," Massie replied calmly even though her face clearly stated otherwise. "I just don't want us to get into a fight over something like this. Alicia is allowed to think one way about someone. You are allowed to think another. Friends are friends but if we all agreed on the same things, we would be awfully boring."

Kristen nodded. "Chris did some mean things to you, Dylan. So did Kemp. They both apologized and I think that was extremely grown up of them."

"I'm not saying it's not because I agree with you a hundred percent. I never expected them to do that in a million years but that doesn't erase the fact that they sent me pig pictures for four months."

"But look at what it did to you," Massie insisted, trying to clean the air. "You took that and used it for your own benefit. That summer of eating healthy and exercising? It made you look ten times hotter. Any attention is good attention- you made it work."

Dylan shrugged, unable to find anything else to say, but still slightly peeved that Alicia said something like that.

Luckily the conversation changed soon after that when Claire yet again didn't pick up her phone. Massie sighed, twisting her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, quickly sending out another text towards her missing-in-action friend.

"I haven't spoken to her all week," Kristen admitted. "I wanted to say hello the other day but she was gone before I could even do so."

"Me too," Dylan agreed, finally taking a tiny bite of her yogurt. She made an appreciative face but didn't go to eat more. "When I was waiting for Jerkface McGee, I saw her leaving. She bolted out of that school."

"And she's not showing up to art anymore," Alicia added despite the fact that she could care less about Claire.

Massie shook her head. "I don't know what's up with her. I wish she would just talk to me like she used to."

"People change. Feelings change. Things change." Alicia shrugged. "Maybe she's becoming someone different, someone she would have become if we had not interfered in her life last year."

Dylan said, "Maybe something happened at the party. She's been weird ever since then, right?"

Kristen nodded, patting at her lips with a napkin. "She was a little moody and all when we were walking everyone home. After that, she wasn't the same. I wonder what happened…"

"Nothing, though," Massie told them. "I was with her the entire night. For the most part, at least. She just seemed uncomfortable with being around Cam…" She trailed off as if a light bulb had turned on above her head. "Oh my god, how could I have been such a _bad_ friend?"

Alicia frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Cam!" Massie exclaimed. "I should have realized earlier… She told me that day that she didn't want to be near him because it would be awkward and I only told her it would be if she made it that way. Then I proceeded to make out with him and start some sort of relationship right after the party… She's acting this way because she still likes him!"

Kristen looked confused. "She's ignoring _all _of us because of something _you_ did?"

"It makes sense," Dylan offered, eating a little more. "When we're together we want to hear how things are in Massie's world. Cam is in Massie's world. At lunch, Cam sits with us. There's no catching a break."

"Sucks." Alicia shrugged.

"I feel awful," Massie murmured. "I have to talk to her when we get back. I need to make this right."

Kristen agreed wholeheartedly. Dylan was still upset over recent events to really care that much.

"Do you have to?" Alicia whined. "It was nice without her."

"I know you two have your differences but we need to look past that." Massie unlocked her phone and sent another text to Claire, this one telling her that she wanted to talk later. "I mean, look at Kemp and Plovert. They apologized to Dylan. They're trying to get past their differences even if it'll be hard. You and Claire should be doing the same thing."

"The thing is, Kemp and Plovert want to be on all of our good graces. Unfortunately, I don't want to be that with Claire." Alicia rolled her eyes. "I was getting nothing out of our friendship. I don't really _need_ her in my life."

Massie opened her mouth to say something in return, but her phone _ding_!'d, capturing her attention.

"Did Claire answer?" Kristen inquired.

"No…" Massie murmured, eyes scanning the screen. "It's Cam. He wants to know what we're doing right now."

"_We're_?" Dylan asked. "Or just you?"

"Yeah, are we included in that message?"

"It says 'what are you and the girls doing'? So I'm going to assume he means you girls considering I don't hang out with anyone else."

Alicia smirked at Massie's attitude. "Well, tell him what we're doing then."

"No, lie, and say we're doing something scandalous," Dylan told her. "Like… naked pillow fighting."

Kristen let out a cackle. "Dylan!"

"_Ew_," Alicia agreed, wrinkling her nose. "No offense but I don't want to see any of you naked."

"Right, I forgot," the redhead teased. "You only want to see Danny Robbins naked."

Alicia froze. "Uh, where did you hear that f-from?" The stutter at the end wasn't intentional.

"I was kidding, Leesh." Dylan grinned, pushing her half-eaten yogurt in front of her. "How's that relationship going anyways?"

Getting over the initial shock, Alicia answered: "It's fine, I guess. We talk sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Yeah, I only wanted to kiss him at that party," she explained. "Once we did that, I got bored of him."

"I hope he didn't take it too hard," Dylan murmured sympathetically.

Alicia forced a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace than anything. "I don't think he has."

"Do you guys want to go over to Josh's house?" Massie asked, cutting into that conversation. "Cam says he invited us all over if we want to go."

"Sure."

"Sounds good."

"Are Kemp and Plovert going to be there?"

Massie lifted her shoulder daintily. "Probably. He said they were heading there after soccer practice…"

"Oh." Dylan bit her lip. "Um, I have some homework to do so I don't think I can…"

"If this is about the things they did to you, I don't think you should-"

"No." She shook her head. "I do have a lot of homework to do. I put off a whole DBQ that's due tomorrow and I'd like to get a good amount of sleep tonight."

"Aw," Alicia frowned. "It's not gonna be as much fun without you."

Dylan smiled. "You'll make do."

"Do you want Isaac to drop you off before we go?"

"That'd be great, actually," the redhead answered. "Mom's not home and we don't have a driver to look 'realistic' for the media."

* * *

><p>It was around seven when Massie finally returned back to her estate. It had been a while since she had hung out with the boys and it had been surprisingly a lot of fun despite the fact that they only sat around and watched them play video games for the most part. Josh's mom was a good cook, though, and dinner was excellent. It was just a little weird to think that once upon a time, Claire and Dylan were there without feeling uncomfortable and they were <em>all<em> happy together.

Shaking her head, Massie walked in the opposite direction of her front door, heading towards the guesthouse. She hadn't forgotten about telling Claire she was going to speak to her. This was long overdue, this conversation, and Massie wanted everything out in the open again. She wanted to be friends with Claire the way they used to be, not just awkward acquaintances sometimes when they spotted each other.

A lot had changed in the past couple of months but it only made her realize that Claire had always been one of her closest and truest friends. It would be absolutely ridiculous to lose her over something like Cam.

She knocked twice on the door, waiting casually outside. She hadn't been here in so long she almost forgot what it looked like.

She was welcomed into the house by Jay, who looked completely exhausted. "Hello, Massie. Long time no see."

"You too, Jay," she greeted. "How's things?"

"As good as they'll ever be." He rubbed at his forehead. "I heard about your mom. I'm sorry it had to happen this way."

Massie shrugged with a polite smile. "Stuff happens," she agreed. "We all find ways to move on, no?"

Jay agreed. "If you're here for Claire, she and some friends are upstairs in her room. I have to get back to my work. It was nice seeing you again."

The teenager blinked, the gears in her mind whirling quickly. _Claire and some friends_? Who was Claire hanging out with? Was the reason she was ignoring the Pretty Committee because of these new friends? Why hadn't she just explained all this to them?

Ridding herself of these thoughts, Massie swallowed and climbed the familiar steps to the second floor. She heard music coming from Todd's room and laughing from Claire's. The walls were adorned with pictures, but the last time she had been there, there were more… Only pictures of Jay, Todd, and Claire were there. Anything that would have had Judi was gone…

What had happened here in the past two weeks?

She padded down the hall, stopping at Claire's door to gauge the situation. She vaguely recognized the voices but couldn't quite put her finger on who was there in that room. Her fist was positioned to knock on the door when the words they were saying suddenly became very clear to her.

"Danny wants to spend the night."

"Didn't he just spend the night yesterday?" That was definitely Claire.

"Yeah," the first voice said, "but who cares? We have _a lot_ of fun when he stays over."

"More fun than he had with Alicia?" A second voice asked.

"Of course," the first chuckled. "I'm much better."

"Ooh, Claire, Landon answered you!"

_Landon_? What was Landon doing with Claire…?

Massie hated to eavesdrop but she would probably never get this opportunity again. Maybe it would give her some answers for Dylan as well.

"He answered _you_, Samantha."

Samantha? Who the hell was Samantha?

"What'd he say?" the first voice said, excited and intrigued. At that point, it hit her right in the face who that was: Skye Hamilton. She had heard the older girl seem enthusiastic about something when she was interested in Chris Abeley last year. How come it took her this long to realize it was her? And why was Claire hanging out with her? And talking to Landon Crane?

"He said he did have a lot of fun yesterday after school and he'd like to do it again, preferably on Friday." This Samantha girl giggled. "Claire, what did you _do_ with Landon?"

_Are you kidding_? Massie didn't hear Claire's response, focusing more on the fact that Landon, the boy Dylan had a semi-crush on, had been with _Claire_ rather than Dylan yesterday. Claire knew about the date! She was there for the conversation! How could she do that to her friend like that? Friends didn't steal each other's dates like that! What was _wrong_ with her?

"I think you could take it to the next level on Friday," Skye advised. "He's obviously interested- and why wouldn't he be? You're gorgeous."

"I don't know…"

"No, seriously," another girl agreed. The DSL Daters? Seriously?

"You think?"

"Yes!" Skye said loudly. "Come to my house on Friday like you said. It'll be a _blast_."

There was silence after, the sounds of only fingers on the computer keyboard filling the air. Disgusted with what she heard just go down, Massie realized she didn't care that Claire was upset over Cam- if she even _was_ upset over Cam- and turned to leave. If this was the reason Claire was being a complete bitch to the rest of them, awesome. Keep doing it.

Being pushed aside for the DSL Daters was a really _great_ feeling.

"If you have Danny coming over tonight, do you still want to get it with Derrick?" asked a fourth voice, causing Massie to step dead in her tracks.

_Get it _with _Derrick_? Her heart was hammering in her chest again just at the very sound of his name. She needed to know the answer to this question. If this was aimed at Claire, so help her God- but _no_, they mentioned Danny in the beginning and _Skye_ was talking about him before…

"Of course I do," Skye answered. Massie could practically hear her cheeky expression. "He's a total babe. I'd love to corrupt that."

Someone giggled. "I don't think he needs corruption. He's hooking up with, like, three girls at once. Who knows what he's doing with them?"

"Who?" Claire asked.

Massie gritted her teeth, her head urging her to move forward and leave the house, but once again, her heart didn't listen and she stood there.

"Olivia Ryan, Allie-Rose Singer, and Alexandra Reagan."

"He gets around." Someone whistled.

"He's really hot, of course he gets around," Skye responded. "When he wants you, I highly doubt _anyone_ would say no to that."

"What if he doesn't want you?"

She snorted. "That's a silly question, Claire. _Everyone _wants me."

Massie felt nauseous, wanting to leave this conversation once and for all. This wouldn't have bothered her if she hadn't bumped into Derrick last night when she was walking her dog. So what? Skye could get with him. She didn't care. He was obviously very content with kissing multiple girls. That was cool. Awesome. Massie had Cam. Cam was nice. He was sweet. He was a lot of things Derrick would never be.

And all of that bothered Massie to the very core. Derrick had been her first real relationship, the first real boy to hurt her in ways she would never be able to mend. It irked her more than it should that he was doing all of this. She wanted to forget him and everything, but it was hard to do so when he was there all the time and she was friends with him.

She walked away, wishing the awful feeling in her stomach would dissipate, when she heard a slight whisper of her voice. Following the sound, she noticed Todd was standing in his doorframe, his red hair mussed, and his music lowered.

"Hi, Todd," she said.

"Hey." He waved her over. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to Claire, but…" She gestured to her closed door. "She's kind of busy at the moment."

Todd rolled his eyes. "They're _always_ here or she's always with them. It's getting to the point of irritating, to be honest."

"I'm surprised you aren't all over them. Aren't they pretty enough to be hit on?"

He grinned. "There's only one girl for me and that's Alicia."

"That hurts, Todd."

He shrugged. "They're actually really annoying," he explained. "It's like they _want_ me to compliment them all the time. I like doing it because it bothers you guys and because I really mean it. With them, I don't. They're weird."

"I never liked them."

"I just have a bad feeling about them." Todd bit his lip, scratching his stomach. "I've always heard you and the others talking about how those girls are always so manipulative and mean. I just don't think they're the best for Claire right now."

Massie pursed her lips thoughtfully. "It's her decision to be friends with them, Todd. We can't stop her even if we wanted to."

He shook his head. "Are you going to talk to her then?"

"Probably not. She's having a lot of fun with them. I don't want to intrude."

"Is it because of what you heard them say about Derrick?"

Massie felt her face heat up. "Excuse me?"

Todd eyed her knowingly. "I've been home when they're around, Mass. I've heard _every_ conversation they've had numerous times. It's all Skye talks about."

"It doesn't bother me," she replied nonchalantly. "We broke up. He can do whatever he wants."

"You do have Cam," Todd agreed slowly.

"I do."

"And I guess it wouldn't really mean anything to you if I told you Derrick still liked you, right?"

Massie nodded assertively. "Right. It means… _wait_, what?"

Todd's entire face lit up as he grinned. "Night, Massie." The door shut behind him.


	23. twenty two

it took me forever to write this, ugh. according to my notes, there are three more chapters until i time jump two months. i hope no one minds that.

i'm probably not updating until next week at best. tomorrow is prom (thank _god_ we got it back) and friday is graduation. it's supposed to super hot the next few days so i hope i don't die! wish me luck!

thank you for the reviews!

* * *

><p>Massie was not hungry.<p>

In fact, she hadn't been hungry all day, not since Todd's surprise attack on her. She could still remember his voice telling her that Derrick liked her in that sneaky way of his. The way he seemed to think he held something over her by saying it. _Derrick still likes you_. Maybe it wasn't so much in those words but that's all her mind was capable of comprehending. In all actuality, however, she did not comprehend it because it didn't make sense.

How could Derrick still like her? How could Derrick like her at _all_? Was it not only four months ago he took her heart and stomped all over it? He disregarded his own feelings because he was 'bored' or whatever he wanted to say about their relationship and now he liked her again? Surely someone was fed the wrong information. There was no way someone who already went down that road with her wanted to do it again.

Todd was wrong. Todd was the end receiver on a very long game of Telephone when everything was distorted and impractical. Someone must have said something completely different- perhaps _Derrick likes cake_ or something- and he heard it wrong. Stuff like that happened. Massie wouldn't hold it over him. She had done some pretty bad things working off of rumors in the past.

This was like karma for being a terrible person. There was a person out there toying with her emotions, the same emotions she had no idea the source. It didn't make sense for her to still be feeling a small light in her when Derrick was around. It was his entire fault for being there last night, for finding her dog, and calling her Block, and smiling at her. She liked when boys smiled; it made them ten times more attractive. _Especially_ if they had gorgeous smiles, like Derrick. That was entirely unfair that this all-knowing person knew of her weakness in boys and sent her ex-boyfriend out to talk to her.

She had Cam. Cam was a great kid. He was sweet to her and talked with her like a boy should. Cam was raised right (not saying that Derrick wasn't) and showed off the way his parents brought him up perfectly. He was an all-around gentleman who didn't point fingers as soon as he was confused or upset. He merely waited for Massie to explain the situation and took action accordingly. On the other hand, Derrick was his polar opposite and that was probably why they were best friends. He was a little bit more out there and passionate and aggressive (and more attractive because of it all, but shhhh). He picked fights with her when they were dating, twisting her up inside because she didn't understand what was going on, but then somehow managed to turn it all around to be sweet and charming when he apologized to her.

Yeah, Massie didn't need that type of relationship anymore. She was perfectly content with her _someone-I-can-kiss-when-I-want-to_ thing she had going on with Cam. Sometimes, they held hands. It was nice. It was pleasant. It was uniform and orderly. Massie liked order. She liked control. It was everything she liked.

"You okay?" the boy in question- Cam, not Derrick- questioned, nudging her elbow lightly. It was lunchtime again at Briarwood and as usual, the Pretty Committee was found squished into a table with the soccer boys.

Massie snapped her head up, nodding convincingly. "I'm fine," she told him. "Just tired. It's been a long week."

Cam nodded as if he understood- he might have, really; he could've had a long week too- but it didn't really get what she was saying. A lot of shit had gone down this week that left her mentally and physically exhausted. So far, only Josh knew of it.

"School's almost over," he informed her. "Then you can get some sleep."

"That sounds nice," she said, but she didn't think sleep would cure this type of fatigue she felt. "Too bad I have a bunch of classes after this."

"They'll go by in no time," Cam promised, ripping apart his bagel. "For now, just eat. Food will do you good."

Massie tried not to wrinkle her nose at the sight of her lunch before her, if you could even call it lunch. She had asked the lunch lady- nice woman, too- if she could just pick some fruit out of the salads instead of buying a whole one and she had let Massie take four strawberries, pieces of banana, and a handful of grapes for only twenty five cents. She insisted it wasn't enough for a full dollar no matter how much Massie tried to convince her.

She really didn't want to eat this. She was content with playing around with the fruits, but as Cam watched, she forced herself to chew slowly on a grape. It squished in her mouth as she chewed it, emitting the juices from within. Eventually all she had to do was swallow now and she did so, hoping she pleased Cam enough because, really, she wanted to sit and think some more, not eat.

She looked over to see that Cam was involved in a conversation with Kemp, but she didn't listen hard enough to figure out what it was about. Instead, she let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding and slumped back into her chair. Things were _so_ much simpler when she was back at OCD, ruling that school with an iron fist. She didn't have to worry about things like eating and boys sitting next to her or boys in general, really.

She didn't have to wonder if she would be obvious about her (internally conflicting) feelings when they smiled or flipped their hair out their eyes because it was too long but she couldn't say anything about it or when they accidentally bumped into her or they smelled really good or they made eye contact with her across a lunchroom table.

Derrick's eyes were really pretty. She hadn't meant to look up but that all-knowing person probably made her because they _suck_ and she did regardless of the fact that stupid Derrick Harrington sat across from her today. So their eyes met and she didn't really have the common sense to look away- which was the worst ever.

And then he offered up a small smile which _didn't _light up his face (it did). And it _didn't_ make her feel weird things inside (it did). And his eyes _didn't_ twinkle (they did). His eyes were striking, yeah, but they weren't as nice as Cam's one blue and one green. She may have called him psychotic before because of it, but they were like little jewels while Derrick's were the color of, like, melted chocolate and caramel or something.

Massie didn't really like chocolate.

(She did.)

* * *

><p>"You finally figured out how to use that thing, huh?"<p>

Don't tell Alicia, but Derrick was sort of in the habit of looking after her when she wasn't paying attention. It had really started that day she asked him about her outfit but it escalated when Plovert told him about the Danny thing and then he bumped into her when she was practically driven to tears by half the boys in his school.

This was no different. He always observed her in woodshop, mainly because she didn't know what she was doing half the time and it was funny to see her struggle. Today, however, she seemed to finally get the hang of using that hammer without terrifying herself.

"Yeah." She beamed at him. "And I didn't hurt myself."

"I am _so_ proud," he teased.

In that instant, it was almost like one of those movies or shows where the girl literally went from content to miserable in two seconds flat. Derrick had seen the boys in the class looking at her the way they had in the halls, heard the whispers, and pretended to not have in order for Alicia to keep her dignity. He knew from experience that she was the type of girl who wanted to remain proud no matter what- but now, it looked as if she wanted to break down- _escape_- more than anything.

All because Danny Robbins took advantage of her.

Derrick refused to believe anything other than that until he was told the story from her point of view. _If_ he was told the story. Until then, she was going to remain completely innocent because he was not Danny's biggest fan. It was as simple as that.

He had never actually seen Alicia Rivera visibly upset before. He had seen her a lot of ways- angry, disappointed, holier than thou, happy, cheerful, exuberant… but never upset. Never sad. It was always thought that she wasn't capable of misery, that no one would bring her to that point of suffering. Pretty girls weren't supposed to be sad- it was a rule; he used to think that when he was younger.

To be honest, he kind of wished that someone had instilled it. One of the Founding Fathers should've written it in the Bill of Rights. It could've been number eleven.

One look at Alicia and whoever was staring honest to God felt awful about everything. Her eyes were big and sad, kind of shiny. Her cheeks were starting to get pinker as she got more embarrassed with each word the boys behind her were murmuring- and some of the things they said made Derrick annoyed- at her. Her lips were set in a straight line, but they wobbled once every few seconds.

"Alicia?" he asked softly, glad he decided to sit next to her and not across like he usually had been opting to do.

Her gaze seemed to focus clearly on him, but he still saw her inner turmoil. If everyone would just _shut up_ this wouldn't be a problem. All of Westchester was filled with scandal- it didn't make sense as to why they were all ganging up on Alicia.

"Derrick?" she said back, trying to act like nothing was wrong.

He smiled at her pathetic attempt. "I can see right through you," he murmured. "Don't listen to them. They're idiots." It said this loud enough for the group of kids to hear him. This was an all-sophomore class and most of his grade was intimidated by him for some reason (probably the fact that he got to hang out with girls like Alicia and Massie and that he was one of the few freshmen to make varsity soccer last year), so they would shut up. Hopefully.

Alicia shook her head, letting go of her tools as her hands shook. "You don't get it," she whispered, ducking her head.

"I don't," he agreed, "but if you wanted me to, I would listen."

She remained silent for a beat. Then another. And another. Derrick put himself out there, but she was taking the bait, and that was okay. He didn't want to push her. He didn't want her to think that he was just talking to her to hear the story. He wanted her to know that someone was there for her even if it was him.

Taking her quiet form as an answer, Derrick went back to finishing step one of this massive project. Their teacher was counting it as a test but half the time he passed everyone because he was so old. Most of the class could hardly do this without step by step instruction, which was sad because they were all boys.

"I slept with Danny Robbins," she told him so quietly he almost didn't catch it.

He licked his lips, unsure of what to say. He was glad she wasn't looking at him or else he would have given it all away. "So that was true," he commented, watching her carefully to make sure he wasn't hurting her feelings or anything of the sort. "I wasn't sure so I wasn't going to believe it…"

Slightly true, slightly false.

Alicia nodded. "It is. I know it's been going around." She swallowed. "I just… no one's really stopped to think what might have happened. They're all just… judging me."

"It's what Westchester is good at," he replied earnestly. "But I'm not one to judge."

He _couldn't_ be one to judge. Not when his life seemed pretty perfect on the outside. One step into his house after school hours and people would get the shock of their lives. He guessed that was also Westchester, though. Appearances were everything. That's why everyone was always so confused when something huge happened. Everything was covered up so immaculately, so hidden.

She hesitated. "We're not friends, really," she admitted sheepishly. He wasn't offended- they really weren't. Not yet, at least. "And we weren't close before… are you sure you'd want to hear my problems?"

"You look like you need someone to talk to. Why not the kid who knows nothing but the way you acted a year ago? Even then, I only know what you did vaguely. I have nothing to work with."

"I could use someone…"

"Then use me."

If someone had asked Derrick if he thought he'd be listening to Alicia Rivera discuss one of the biggest problems of her life in the middle of his woodshop class at Briarwood School for boys, he would have laughed in their face. It seemed so unlikely that he'd ever have to associate with her again, even if he hadn't really associated with her in the first place. They were acquaintances at best. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, though, he wouldn't see himself anywhere else.

He was starting to get attached to the little girl. All of her quirks- the fact that she couldn't use a screwdriver without sticking her tongue out especially- were endearing. She bantered with him when they talked and was the only one brave enough- or stupid, maybe- to sit with him on the first day of school. He regretted not trying to befriend her before all of this, but this time last year, he was consumed with Massie. Not that this year was any different.

"Like, I don't know if it was his intention the entire time," she was saying, "but everyone seemed to believe so. Even Claire warned me about him and we don't like each other." She took a deep breath. "I should've seen the warning signs, I guess. I shouldn't have been so stupid but… he made me take tequila shots and everything after that is fuzzy."

Derrick made a sympathetic face. Her voice was quiet enough for it to not travel across the room but he was worried who else was hearing this. Boys could twist words too.

"And then Skye was there- I remember that. It was stupid."

"I hate Skye," Derrick muttered, remembering what she did to him that night. And recalling the fact that she was texting him almost every day to 'hang out'. Ew.

"Me too," Alicia agreed. "She's been, like, hooking up with Danny this entire year. That's why she doesn't like me. If I had known, I probably wouldn't have…" She trailed off, biting her lip. "I'm so _stupid_."

Derrick didn't know what to do but he felt like he should physically touch her or something. Didn't that soothe girls? Actually, he wasn't sure. "You're not stupid," he rebuked, shaking his head when she looked at him with her patented _are you kidding _glare. "You just had a momentary lapse in judgment. How were you to know what he would do?"

"That's the point," she sighed. "I didn't know him well enough to know what kind of person he was besides the obvious. I shouldn't have trusted him so blindly."

"You made a mistake," Derrick insisted. "No one can blame you for that. Everyone has those days."

"But I will never be able to forget it!" Her tone of voice was starting to get a little hysterical and it was then that he realized just how much this must be hurting her. She lost her virginity to a boy who didn't care about her in the slightest and all she wanted to do was forget it ever happened, but no one would let her.

"They're only doing this because they're mad you guys are here. The majority, at least. There's a handful who like it and a handful who don't care. Eventually they'll leave you be."

"_Eventually_," she repeated, sniffing. "When I'm finally over it, that's when they'll stop. They're doing it not because they're mad but because they can get a reaction out of me. I mean, come _on_, I would do the same thing if the tables were turned, and I guess that's why this hurts just that much. I'm getting treated like this because I'm a terrible person and I've done so many bad things to so many people in the past. Boys, girls, teachers… it doesn't matter- I hurt them and this is my punishment."

Derrick didn't know what came over him, but he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and whispered, "Breathe."

She took a few short, crazy breaths before she calmed herself down again. "Derrick, you just… if this happened to _you_, there would be no teasing or mocking. It's like boys are allowed to do this kind of thing and get congratulated for it. Girls on the other hand get mocked and ridiculed because they did something they may or may not be very proud of." She sniffed and he could practically see her internal battle to keep her feelings in line. "I just… don't remember what happened. I honestly can't tell you when or where this whole thing occurred but it's like everyone else knows the exact second and the color of the walls and all these miniscule details I _don't _want to know… and they're just shoving them in my face, creating this whole picture for me that might not even be true."

"You have to ignore them, Alicia," he told her, realizing that he wasn't the best at giving advice. If his mom had been around, she would be able to sit Alicia down and tell her the right things, making her feel so much better. Derrick was unable to do that, but he would try. "When they realize that what they're saying won't affect you, they'll stop. Just like you said before, they're only doing this to get a rise out of you."

"But I _can't_," she insisted. "I want to just hide. You don't get it."

"I don't," he agreed, "because the Alicia Rivera I knew would handle this differently. She would handle any situation like she was not the one at fault and you know you used to do that too. Where did she go?"

Alicia bit her lip, her wide eyes decreasing in their size. "I don't know. I think she's hiding because Anxious Alicia is here to stay." Her face was paling again. "I've never felt like this- so, so, _so_ scared. You don't know how terrified I am. I've never gotten used like this before and that's why this part of me is coming out. It's even harder to pretend like nothing happened around the girls. They always seem to know what's wrong with me and I feel awful for putting up this whole façade just to keep this inside."

"You mean they don't know?" Derrick was shocked. Didn't the Pretty Committee share everything (including but not limited to clothing, boys, and shoes)?

She shook her head. "I couldn't tell them," she told him desperately. "I thought about it, I tried, but looking at their faces: they'd be so disappointed in me. In what I did to our reputation. They'd _hate_ me."

"They wouldn't." And he really meant it. Sure, the girls were complete bitches most of the time but really, when it was one of their own, they would stick together. Maybe. "And even if they all didn't stand by you, Massie would."

"You have a lot of faith in her," Alicia pointed out, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Considering we fought over who should 'lead'"- she used air-quotes here- "the Pretty Committee last Christmas. And then over boys. And then she kicked me out of the group. And then I left willingly. I wouldn't say that was a stable friendship."

Derrick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That was when you weren't comfortable with yourselves as people," he explained as if he really knew what he was doing. He was basing this off of Sammi's history in middle school and high school. _She _had crazy friends. Like, literally crazy friends with mental problems, he was sure of it. "Look at you guys now. You're in a new school. There's no one else to cling to but each other. If that doesn't make a bond stronger, I don't know what does. You've been friends for too long to let something like this come between you. If anything, she'd want to make sure you're okay even if she was mad that you tarnished the Pretty Committee's good name or something."

Alicia looked conflicted so Derrick took this as a sign to keep speaking. He was running out of things to say to her without blurting that he would stick with her and making this awkward as hell. Because secretly, he would defend her. He and Plovert had already made that decision- unspoken, of course.

"It wouldn't hurt to try. Just tell them or just tell Massie. She wouldn't leave you."

"How do you know so much about her?"

"We dated, Alicia," he said, "I know how she acts."

She shrugged. "I don't know."

He placed his hand on top of hers, squeezing lightly without making her feel weird about it. "Don't think twice about it. Tell her. If she doesn't act the way I think she will, I give you permission to slap me in the face."

Alicia giggled- a rather stuffed-up sound because she was still fighting back tears- and Derrick decided it was the best noise he ever heard.

Anything other than sobbing was good. Derrick was _not_ good with crying girls.

* * *

><p>It was slightly intimidating looking at the group of girls Claire had been avoiding for a little over a week. Laughing and smiling with each other, it was like they were so much better off without her. Claire wondered when they decided to do without her, when they decided she wasn't good enough for them, like Skye said. Was she <em>ever<em> good enough for them? Probably not. They didn't even look like they missed her.

Well, she didn't miss them either. She had other friends- friends that liked her for her and didn't use her as a pawn to boost their self-esteems. Skye and the DSL Daters were much better companions: they didn't spend their time shopping and gossiping. They reminded Claire of Sari, Sarah, and Mandy back in Florida.

She didn't need the Pretty Committee anymore. Although she wasn't obsessed with being popular the way she used to be, she was still at the top because of Skye. Massie's friendship wasn't necessary to make sure people looked up to her and didn't tease her endlessly like they used to. She didn't want to go back to that stage in her life- Florida clothes, long bangs, no friends, no confidence. She liked the way she was and if Westchester changed her, so what? Westchester morphed _everyone_ into the ideal person they were supposed to be.

Remembering that she was on a mission, Claire squared her shoulders- something she learned from Massie- and calmly walked up to her friends as if she did this every day. No one had to know she was slightly uncomfortable. After all, she hadn't done this in a while.

Kristen noticed her first, offering up a smile.

Dylan nudged Alicia, who turned quickly, her carefree expression literally sliding off her face to be replaced with an entirely sour look. Massie soon followed their lead, confused as to what they were looking at, and crossed her arms, eyes alight with a fire Claire hadn't seen since she first moved to Westchester.

"Hey," she greeted.

There was no response. It was like a showdown, like when they used to be at OCD and they weren't friends yet. It was funny how things could change so quickly: they were sort of friends now, distant because of words spoken behind Claire's back. _Wait_, she thought quickly,_ nothing has changed._

"Okay," she pressed on. "I just came by to tell you I can't come to the sleepover tonight."

"Who said you were still invited?" Alicia spat back, crossing her arms over her chest in a huff.

"I mean, no one told me I _wasn't_, so."

"No one told me you were hanging out with Skye either." Massie shrugged her shoulders. "I guess we're even."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Are you guys still all bent out of shape over Skye? That was so last year."

"She went out of her way to ruin our lives," Alicia retorted. Claire noticed at this point that only beta and alpha were contributing to the conversation. Did this mean Dylan and Kristen thought differently? "She teamed up with Nina when she came here. She kissed Derrick even though she knew his history with Massie. She made up lies about me to Josh. I hope you remember she went after you and Cam-"

"If you can forgive the guys for breaking your hearts, I don't see why I can't forgive Skye," Claire cut in, feeling irritated. "I don't even like Cam anymore. He's dating Massie"- ("We're _not_ dating!")- "I could care less about _those_ boys."

"Right," Massie snorted. "Because you're too busy with older boys like Landon Crane, right?"

Dylan's face dropped. "What?"

"Right, I forgot to tell you," Massie hissed. "The reason Landon didn't go out on a date with you was because he was with _her_."

"How do you know that?"

"You're dating Josh!" Kristen accused, Claire's question flying over their heads. "You can't do that to him!"

Claire sighed in annoyance. "Josh and I are hardly dating. I haven't seen him in weeks."

"That doesn't mean you can go on dates with _other people_," Massie told her harshly. "Josh is a nice kid. He doesn't deserve that and you don't deserve him."

"I mean you _took_ him from me," Alicia spat, obviously still sore about that matter. "It's honestly so hard to fathom that you took the time and energy to get him away from me to just… drop him."

"Do you want him still, Alicia?" Claire demanded. "Are you still upset he didn't pick _you_? Well, great! I'm glad you can get past these things. You can have him."

The Latina stepped forward, narrowing her eyes. She was a good two inches taller than Claire at the moment, but the blonde met her stare head on. "I don't want him," she told her, voice hard. "But that doesn't mean that what you did wasn't wrong."

"Whatever," Claire shrugged. "It's obvious he wants Massie, so-"

"He doesn't," Massie interrupted. "We're friends."

"He basically buys you anything you want," Claire rebuked, sighing. Why had she thought this was a good idea? She shouldn't have tried to be the bigger person and kindly decline the offer for the sleepover. She should have known they would react this way because, honestly, the Pretty Committee had always been too arrogant and confident in themselves. "If that's not going on dates, I don't know what is."

Massie ran a hand through her hair. "Kuh-laire"- wow, she hadn't called Claire that in months- "Josh and I are friends- _best_ friends- and that is all. Don't pretend you know what's going on in my life. _You_ were the one that pushed me- _all_ of us- away."

"You made it really easy," Claire said, hitching the strap of her backpack up her shoulder as it fell.

"You didn't try to tell us what we were doing," Kristen spoke up. Her voice sounded kind of melancholy and sad. "You didn't bother to try to fix it."

Claire looked at her, almost feeling bad that she wasn't friends with the only other person who seemed to understand how hard it was to be poor in the group. But then she remembered the things Skye had said they did to her and she didn't feel anything. They didn't deserve to be upset about this. It was _their _fault.

"There's nothing to fix." She met each one of their stares- Massie's hard and calculating; Alicia's furious; Kristen's disappointed; Dylan's betrayed- and turned on her heel. "Have fun at the sleepover tonight."

There was a second of silence before Alicia's voice rang out.

"We will. Because you won't be there."

* * *

><p><strong>Derrick<strong>: donde esta

**Plovert**: my locker

**Derrick**: si si

When the blonde goalie finally showed up at Chris' locker, the first words out of the latter's mouth were: "What's with the Spanish?"

Derrick grinned. "That was my last class. I'm always stuck thinking in Spanish for an hour afterwards."

"That sucks."

His friend shrugged. "S'cool. I don't mind."

Chris continued to shove books into his backpack, feeling his entire psyche bend under the pressure of the weekend. He had so much homework to do. English class proved to be even more irritating than he thought it would be: they just finished their book and now they were supposed to create some review packet for it so they could all benefit from it before the test. Global was always another chapter after chapter and a quiz. He had to read one before Monday. Math gave him a sheet- that wasn't so bad- and everything else had little assignments due towards the end of the week. It didn't help that he needed to continue to tutor various teenagers in Westchester, study for himself, _and_ sleep, but somehow he always managed.

He rubbed his forehead, thankful for once that he was off the soccer team. He wouldn't be able to do all of this if he were still on… and speaking of soccer, he wondered how the tryouts went. He'd ask Derrick but he probably didn't know anything. He couldn't answer the question everyone wanted to know- was Kristen on or not?

"So, something really weird happened in woodshop today," Derrick began casually as the two began the walk from Chris' locker to the outside world. Chris was aware it was slightly chilly; fall was coming fast and soon, but he hadn't brought any sort of coat. Whatever. He'd live.

"Did someone break something?"

"No. That happens every day."

"Then what weird things could happen in woodshop?"

Derrick paused, scrunching his nose up as he thought. "Alicia told me," he finally said, looking around him once or twice as if he were about to tell a big secret. And, technically, he was.

"Told you?" Chris echoed, hoping he was wrong about _what_ Alicia spilled to Derrick. Surely it wasn't her side of the Danny Robbins story.

He nodded. "She told me all about her and Danny and how she feels about it."

Chris ignored the sinking feeling in his stomach, swallowing. "That's good," he murmured, the words forced against his tongue. "At least she's opening up to someone."

"Yeah," Derrick agreed. "I thought it would have been Blo- Massie or something, though."

"Me too." Chris nodded, ignoring Derrick's slip-up. He'd been making a lot of those lately, especially since the dog-walking-together incident he had yet to elaborate on. He'd ask about that later. They had quite the walk home from school. "How'd she feel about it?"

"Well, people are still making fun of her for it," the blonde sighed angrily, "and it's really affecting her. You can tell. I didn't even think she'd tell me until she admitted to needing someone to talk to and she said _a lot _for someone who isn't really friendly with me."

"It must be really hard," Chris replied sympathetically, wishing he weren't as disappointed as he was turning out to be.

Why hadn't she told him? He was just as friendly with her as Derrick was, a little more if you asked him. He helped her after an entire hall pushed her to tears and took her to the nurse to wash up and take a break. What did Derrick do? Kept her from falling flat on her ass? How _chivalrous_.

His mind was whirling with everything he had done better than Derrick regarding Alicia's situation (he got kicked off the soccer team for heaven's sake!) but the main question he couldn't find the answer to bothered him more than anything else.

_Why was he so upset about this? _

Alicia didn't hold any obligations towards him. She didn't _have_ to tell him what was going on in her life. It didn't matter who she poured her heart to. A part of him- a really _teensy _part- had wished it were him she chose.

"I can't even imagine what she's going through."

"I wish I could help."

"I guess we can help by not making fun of her," Derrick suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'm not quite sure what else there is to do. I don't think there is anything until she tells everyone… and even then, I'm not sure she will. She's too embarrassed by it."

Chris knew his friend wasn't trying to rub this in his face, but seriously, this was starting to bother him. Alicia could have told _him_. He was reliable. He was on the student council! He beat up Danny for her!

_Girls_, he decided, _were not meant to be at Briarwood._ They only made him feel insecure, which was weird because he was nerd-jock, hotshot Chris Plovert, and he didn't know what to do. He needed a break. Or more sleep.

Deciding he was done listening to anything and everything revolving around Alicia Rivera, he quickly changed the subject to what he heard at lunch the other day. "What's this about you and Massie?"

"There's nothing about me and Massie," Derrick replied. His posture and facial expression oozed cool but the fact that he spoke so fast ratted him out. He was good at being obvious.

"Right," Chris snorted. "And I'm the Queen of England."

"No, seriously," Derrick insisted. "There's nothing. I'm with Olivia. I'm very… content with her."

"Content sounds _really_ positive, D." Chris rubbed his palms against his arms. He should've brought a coat. "You can tell me. I could care less about Olivia."

"Olivia just lives close to Massie," Derrick told him, ignoring the look Chris was sending his way. "And she lost her dog. Bean found me. I gave her back. I walked Massie home. It was dark. That's it. I don't know why you're making this out to be a bigger deal than it is."

Chris smirked. "I'm not. _You_ are."

"How am _I_ doing that?" Derrick shot back. "You're the one asking me about it."

"True, but I'm not saying anything that classifies it as a 'big deal', you know? I just wanted to know what your deal was. You're the one freaking out about it."

Derrick's cheeks reddened as he kicked a rock in his way, muttering under his breath. Chris was taking great joy out of his discomfort- because, right now, it was extremely clear that Derrick still liked Massie and that the dog walking was a little bit more than what he was saying.

Normally Chris would push him more just to see him squirm but he decided to let Derrick have this moment to himself. Besides, the kid needed to reevaluate everything in his life if he still liked Massie. He had to factor in a few things, mainly Olivia and Cam. And his block was coming up quick on his left.

He hadn't realized how exhausted he was until he saw the familiar house on the corner and the street sign that determined this the start of Baker's Corner.

* * *

><p>It was a long walk to Heidi's.<p>

Claire hadn't bothered to ask her father for a ride to her house and Skye lived too close to her friend for the blonde to even consider asking for a ride. That left her with two options: ride a bike or walk. Obviously bike riding was _not_ in anymore- honestly, it was never in- so she settled for her two legs as a means for transportation.

Luckily she knew her way around Westchester on her own by this time or else she would have gotten lost. Heidi lived deep in the north side of town, where the roads got twisted and bent. Jay would not have approved if he found out where she was going. It was a good thing she lied and said she was hanging out at Layne's, even though she hadn't seen that girl since she got expelled.

She slightly wished the girls were more mature about her telling them she wasn't going to their sleepover tonight. After all, it was a very grown up thing of her to do, going up to them and explaining it rather than just not showing up at all. She thought they would like that. Unfortunately they didn't like _anything_ about Claire, like Skye had said, and she was done with it.

It didn't matter at this point. She didn't even want to know what their deal was. Last year, she'd probably grovel at their feet and sob and whine until they took her back, but this time around, she had other friends. _Better _friends. Skye and DSL Daters were to her something that the Pretty Committee wasn't. They didn't keep secrets or pick favorites. They included Claire in everything and respected her wishes when things came up she didn't want to do. She had other friends besides Massie, Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen, and that was why their ultimate betrayal didn't hurt as much as it did. What made it ten times better was the fact that her new friends were just as popular- if not _more_- than the Pretty Committee. She wasn't some lowly loser because they didn't like her. She was still at the top.

Speaking of the DSL Daters, she wondered what they'd end up doing tonight. All she had to go by is the things she did with Massie: gossip, paint nails, go shopping. Claire hoped they didn't do the latter; she didn't really enjoy shopping, even if her father got a raise at his office. Skye and the rest of them seemed a little too exciting to do that. Or she hoped they would have something fun to do… Claire wasn't too keen on leaving one group of girls for another that did the exact same thing.

But when she finally got to Heidi's, texted her she was there, and was led to the basement, Claire came to the conclusion that the DSL Daters did _not_ do things the same way Massie did. In fact, they did it a little differently.

The entire basement was transformed- or maybe it wasn't; Claire had never been there before- into a little party. There were a few people there. She saw Landon Crane (and that made her uncomfortable) and Danny Robbins (who was all over Skye as per usual nowadays). There were other boys from the soccer team- older, of course- and some of the lacrosse kids, even though Claire was quite positive they didn't get along.

The countertop was covered in bottles of alcohol. Hard liquor, liqueurs… Right by it on the ground was a bucket of ice with other little bottles and cans inside there.

Claire was _not_ expecting this, but what was she expecting really? These girls were no Pretty Committee. They didn't go to parties sometimes, get shitty, and leave to return to the classy albeit bitchy girls they were. Skye and friends _were_ the party. They threw them. They were the party girls and Claire was right in the middle of it, being the one who did _not_ party. At all. Ever. Not even a little bit.

"Claire! You made it!" Skye greeted, untangling herself from Danny's embrace.

"Yeah," she answered, ignoring Landon's gaze on her. Had she really gotten him to skip out on a date with Dylan? "I said I would be here."

"I'm so happy you came!" Samantha (Ponytail) cheered, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. The look on Nose's- she could never remember her name- face was priceless: she looked disgusted. Claire didn't know why. Maybe someone pissed her off. That happened often.

"Me too," Claire smiled. "What's going on here?"

"Party," Samantha explained.

Claire frowned. "Looks kind of small to be a party…" She didn't have much experience in this department, but the last _party_ she had been at was Carson's and that was huge.

Samantha laughed, a tinkling sound that caught Landon's attention. He stared at her briefly then glanced at Claire, looking away when both girls settled their gazes on him. "It's a _private_ party," she explained. "We're not going to invite the entire grade. We don't really like them."

"Oh," Claire said stupidly. "Well, this looks fun."

Skye wiggled her way between them. "Danny will _not_ leave me alone."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Samantha asked.

"Yeah, but…" Skye trailed off thoughtfully. "It's getting kind of annoying when there aren't any other girls he's interested in around. Like, we have this relationship where we're not tethered to each other, you know? I liked it like that."

"Then why did you get so mad when he was going after Alicia?" questioned Claire, cocking her head to the side.

"Because Rivera's a bitch," Skye answered automatically. "I don't like her at all. I don't like that entire group of girls- no offense, Claire."

Claire shrugged. She wasn't part of that anymore.

"Besides, I was hoping Derrick would be down to come but he answered my text with _I'm busy_." Skye shook out her hair, a frown gracing her pretty face. "He's been doing that a lot lately."

"They _did_ have new tryouts for the soccer team…" Samantha mused. "His dad's the coach. He probably had to help."

"Maybe." Skye didn't look any less upset.

Claire felt slightly weird that this gorgeous junior was trying to go after Derrick. Granted, Derrick was good-looking- Claire had also seen his sister who was undeniably pretty- but Skye could do better. When Derrick was part of the Pretty Committee's inner circle, he was completely immature what with his butt-wiggling and refusal to wear pants. Despite the fact that he grew out of that, Skye was not like that at all- she was more of a mini adult than a teenager. She was everything Massie wanted to be but couldn't.

"Pick that frown upside down!" Nose exclaimed, coming towards the group. "We're having a _party_. Boys are here. There are beverages. That's have a ball!"

She offered the trio something in a clear shot glass. Skye and Samantha took the alcohol like champs, shooting it back, but Claire shook her head.

"I don't drink," she informed them sheepishly, an uncomfortable smile adorning her features.

"Don't drink?" Nose spluttered. "What- how can you _not_?"

Claire licked her lips. "I was never that into it when my friends did it…"

"Because your friends were _boring_," Nose said with a smile. "We're much more fun. Here." She handed over the neck of a vodka bottle. "Take a shot. You'll see it's not that bad."

The blonde shook her head, pushing it back into the girl's grasp. "Um, I'm not so sure… I never had that before."

"Try it out!"

"No… it smells too much like a hospital."

Skye sighed. "Deena, don't force that on her."

Claire shot her a grateful smile- maybe she did really understand her- and was slightly relieved that the forcing of alcohol would stop. That is, until she heard Skye again.

"Get her a wine cooler," she instructed. Nose- _Deena_- scampered off to do so, and Claire shot Skye a crazed look. "It's not that bad." She smiled. "More flavor and sugar than anything else. It'll get her off your back."

"Skye, I've never-"

"I'm not telling you to become a party girl," the older girl told her softly. "Just try it out. You might like it and it won't ruin you like rum or vodka. It's raspberry flavored."

Claire couldn't say much after that- there was too much internal turmoil inside of her- and Deena came back with a bottle, cap off, full of a pink liquid.

With slightly shaky hands, Claire took it, watched Skye nod in approval, and took a sip.

It was… good. _Really_ good. Sweet. She didn't even taste the alcohol if there was any.

She must've made an approving face because Skye patted her on the head and left her to her own devices.

She had never expected to like this. She had watched so many teenagers- her own friends- make poor decisions and embarrass themselves because of the drinks they consumed. Her own mother turned to drinking her problems away when it really came down to it, and she was scary. She hadn't wanted to enjoy the drink in her hand, but it _was_ pretty good.

And before Claire knew it, she had finished that one and was reaching to get another.

And another.

And another.

Skye, Samantha, and Deena all shared a triumphant look.

* * *

><p>Since they had started at Briarwood, the amount of Friday night sleepovers had lessened. Last week, they hadn't had one due to Carson's party. Massie hadn't wanted to traipse a hoard of drunken girls into her house after one in the morning and they all agreed. Besides, Dylan had a mishap that night and needed to be taken home.<p>

Regarding the situations this week posed, Dylan was ecstatic that the sleepover was still going on. She needed some relaxation time with her girls. They were the only ones who could get her out of this funk. Knowing that Claire, a once friend, had taken her date away from her was more upsetting than she let on. That and the fact that it _probably_ had something to do with the fact that she wasn't stick figure skinny.

She had thought Landon liked her for her. He had taken care of her when she completely drunk out of her mind… but obviously that was not the case. He was one of those boys that liked to lead girls on, especially the ones who were insecure with themselves. It was probably easier to do it that way.

Dylan was ashamed she ever thought a boy would like her the way she thought he had.

It was made obvious last year when Plovert and Kemp teased her relentlessly that they wouldn't. Sure, the two boys apologized and it was very brave of them to do so, but it didn't change anything. They still hurt her feelings deeply and she was still even more insecure than before.

She wanted to be able to forgive them. They could be great friends- she saw how they were with each other- but it wasn't that simple. She couldn't just forget what they did to her. She needed to remember. She had to make sure she never let another boy pull her along the way they did.

She obviously wasn't very good at it. Look at Landon. He made her think he actually liked her and then he just stopped, probably getting a good laugh out of the entire situation.

She should probably just give up.

This way of thinking- the fact that her thoughts kept going in the negative direction- was the reason she was pumped for this sleepover. There was nothing like a good night spent with her best friends to help her realize how awesome she really was, even if it only lasted for a day.

Moseying around her room, Dylan was double-checking she had everything she needed for the night. Massie had almost everything the girls needed at her house, but they were going to Alicia's this time around. It was weird, but Massie had been adamant about not going to hers like they normally did. She said there was some construction going on that would make it difficult for them.

Alicia might not have the things Dylan needed, so she was going through her mental checklist before she asked Merri-Lee to drop her off at the Rivera house.

_Pajamas_? Check.

_Outfit for the next day_? Check.

_Toothbrush, hairbrush, face wash_? Check, check, check.

_Phone, phone charger?_ Check, check.

_Hair products for her mane_? Chec-

A sound emitted from her computer's speakers similar to that of an instant message alert. Pausing, Dylan padded over to her Mac, moving the mouse quickly to brighten up the screen. Who would be trying to contact her now? No one… unless it were her friends telling her to hurry her slow ass up.

But no- it wasn't a message. It was an email. When was the last time someone _emailed _her?

She went to press on the icon when she remembered that maybe it was her social studies teacher telling her she failed the big project. He had said he would contact anyone who did… Dylan didn't want to fail it. It was a big part of her first quarter grade. That would mean she'd lose twenty points and she couldn't afford that right now.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and double-clicked on the envelope icon. _Please don't be him, please don't be him, please don't be him, please don't_-

She opened her eyes again, reading the subject. It didn't say anything about social studies. In fact, it piqued her interest by stating: _We're only trying to help you_!

_Hey, Dylan, _

_I know we're not friends or anything close to that but I do think you should hear what's been being said about you and your friends. I know you wouldn't believe me if I just wrote it out here (and with good reason!) so I videotaped it with my phone. Please watch this. I am so sorry._

_- Heidi_

Attached was a video, just like the blurb said.

Later, Dylan wouldn't remember why she pressed on it in the first place. Right now, she was curious and that was always going to be one of her biggest downfalls. Curiosity killed the cat. They might as well change the phrase to "Curiosity killed Dylan Marvil."

The clip was grainy and sloppy at best, but Dylan could see everything clearly. Claire- oh, how she _hated_ Claire right now- was there, drinking something pink. Was that alcohol? When did Claire start drinking that? She was in a basement Dylan couldn't recognize and there were boys around. Danny Robbins was over in the corner with Skye… Landon Crane- ew, him- was closer to Claire than Dylan could have liked. There were two other girls with her- other DSL Daters, probably- and the one holding the phone was probably the fourth. Heidi.

It looked like a small get-together in someone's basement and Dylan didn't quite understand why she was watching this. Nothing was going on. Claire was finally pulling the stick out of her ass and trying something new. Good for her.

She was about to exit out of the email and head to Alicia's when the voices started to become a bit louder.

"Tell us about the Pretty Committee, Claire," one girl ordered with an easygoing smile. Dylan could tell a forced smile like a drop of a hat- this girl was wearing one. In fact, they both were. "It must have been fun to be friends with them. What were they really like?"

Claire took another sip of her drink. More like an appreciative guzzle, Dylan decided, and she continued to watch, wondering what Claire would tell these older girls.

"Well, Massie is very insecure about everything. Herself, her family, the way she acts, and everything so that's why she's such a bitch all the time-"

"_Whoa_," Dylan said aloud, ignoring the rest of Claire's explanation. Was she _really_ doing this? The redhead's fingers started to type a message to Massie, alerting her of what she just received when she heard Claire go into detail again.

"And Alicia thinks that all the boys should like her because of her body and she's not even that good of a friend…"

_Not even that good of a friend? _Dylan thought angrily. _She just doesn't like you!_

"And Kristen is trying so hard to be perfect, it's so annoying. Like, that's why she's always studying or doing something to 'give back'. She thinks she has to do that in order to be an overall awesome person. I think she's just a know-it-all."

"Kristen is _not_ a know-it-all," Dylan snapped at the screen, feeling her blood boiling. Who was Claire to say these things about them? They _trusted_ her. They kept _her _secrets, comforted her when she was sad… and she was _telling_ them all of this? Who said she could-

"And Dylan," Claire began, and Dylan's heart stopped. What would she say? What could she say? Did Claire know that much about her? "She thinks she's fat. I mean, she got all these pig pictures sent to her phone and obviously that took a major toll on her but I'm just saying… if other people think you're big, maybe you should _stop_ eating everything because you want to. She's not very happy with herself and I think it's because she thinks she's fat. I mean-"

The redhead's breathing was getting shallower and quicker and she forcefully pressed out of the email even if it wasn't over yet. Her mind was spinning and she was feeling rather dizzy. Claire basically just told a whole room full of people that Dylan thought she was fat, and she never once denied that she did as well.

Basically, that was Claire saying that she thought she was. Just like she said in that message from Massie at the beginning of last year. _Do you think your legs will look good in a mini_?

And she said it right in front of Landon Crane! _Landon Crane_, the boy Dylan had had a potential crush on that she basically _stole_ from her. She told him that Dylan was more insecure than she had let on. She told them _all_ about Chris and Kemp's texts! Who the hell did she think she was?

Dylan didn't understand why her vision was getting blurry and her throat was closing up. Landon was a dick. Claire was a bitch. She didn't even like the DSL Daters. But to hear someone she used to be close with confirm that she was, in fact, bigger than the rest hurt more than she could have imagined.

She _was_ fat. She wasn't pretty. People only liked her because her mother was famous and she sometimes went to Hollywood parties with Merri-Lee for "mother-daughter bonding time."

She had been trying to push past all of these thoughts eating at her and it had been working- for the most part- all day. She hadn't eaten but that was because she actually wasn't hungry not because she was worried about where the excess weight would go.

Unfortunately, it only took Claire's proclamation to make her feel terrible about herself once again. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball on her bed and cry, wishing she had been born as a Block or a Rivera and not the youngest Marvil with all the bad luck.

**To**: Massie  
><strong>From<strong>: Dylan  
>I can't come to the sleepover. I have a stomach virus<p> 


	24. twenty three

dear friends,

i have gotten myself a summer job. i will be starting on monday and working from the hours of 8-4. i don't think i will be updating as quickly as i would like. as much as i would like to give you chapters every three days or so, it takes me a while to write it all out and with this job, it's going to take me even more time to do so. i'm sorry in advance!

in other news, this chapter is not one of my favorites. i'm not very proud of it, but a lot of character development exists in this addition to the story, so it was necessary. i can promise you that derrick will be in the next chapter, though.

thank you for the reviews and i'm sorry for the wait!

(this also isn't edited as much as the others are, so i'm sorry for the mistakes!)

* * *

><p>The sunlight was bright and blinding, causing Alicia to groan loudly, rolling over and covering her face with her arm. It was too early for this. She wanted to sleep some more but her curtains decided to stop working, making it difficult to do so.<p>

She was tiredly aware of her surroundings. If she reached over, she would be able to touch Massie and if she leaned up, her fingers would brush against Kristen's feet. Last night, the sleepover hadn't been as they anticipated. Dylan was unable to show, catching some stomach bug, meaning it was only the three on Alicia's massive bed that night. Claire was no longer allowed and Alicia was thrilled about that. Not only because she fucked everyone over in the past four months, but because she just didn't _fit_.

Dylan, Massie, Alicia, and Kristen fit. They were the same. Different personalities, different looks, but similar in everything.

Despite Dylan's absence, this sleepover reminded Alicia of the good times. The times before boys were prominent in their lives, before Claire, before she was slowly losing Massie to the blonde-haired Floridian, before she lost her virginity to a boy who didn't care…

Hopefully, this meant it would all turn around. Hopefully the Pretty Committee would come back on top, better than ever. Right now that was all Alicia needed. She needed something to prove to everyone that she wasn't some slut that "begged for it" because she didn't. Begging was not her style, no matter how hot the guy was.

Her eyelids started to flutter shut again, sleep taking over her body. The three girls had fallen asleep so quickly last night, probably from the stress of the week before them. Alicia knew there was something up with all of them, but she wasn't sure what it was. It bugged her that all of a sudden they were keeping secrets from each other, but who was she to judge or point fingers? She was hiding what was possibly the hugest thing to ever happen to her because she was scared. Maybe they were too.

Everything was starting to get fuzzy. She felt her senses start to evaporate into nothingness as she welcomed sleep again. A few more hours would do her good. She'd possibly be more refreshed, more ready to take the day-

And someone's phone rang.

Massie and Kristen stirred but didn't wake. Alicia groaned again, sitting up too quickly, her head spinning as a result. Glaring at the cellular device in question, the Latina attempted to stand quietly, which didn't work out as well as she planned.

Foot caught in her blanket, she had to grab the closet object to keep herself steady- which, unfortunately, happened to be her nightstand…and she may or may not have fallen flat on her ass on the floor with the latest _Vogue_ open on top of her.

"Ow," she muttered, rubbing her head.

Looking up as the phone continued to ring, she noticed that Massie had rolled over to take Alicia's spot and Kristen curled up more into a ball. _How could they sleep through this irritating ringtone_? It wasn't even a song- just a series of beeps and annoying jingles. It sounded like an alarm more than anything.

Finally pushing herself out of her position, she crawled over to the mass of phones charging by her dresser, picking up the one that was lighting up. Without looking at the Caller ID, she pressed the 'send' button, effectively bringing silence back into her bedroom.

Blearily, she snapped, "Do you _know_ what time it is?" without realizing that her voice would end up before scratchy and full of sleep.

"Hello to you, too, Alicia," Kemp said on the other line.

"Don't be so nice," she returned, "it's too early for pleasantries."

"It's one thirty-one in the afternoon," he chuckled. "It's late enough for these things."

Alicia blinked, rubbing her eyes with her fist. "Are you serious?"

"Yep," Kemp replied. "Surprised?"

"Yeah- I never sleep this late," she admitted.

He barked out a laugh on the other end. "Kidding?"

"Honest."

"Wow, Leesh, I sleep until three sometimes."

"That's a waste of the day!"

"I don't do anything until later in the night…" Kemp murmured. "Do you do things in the morning?"

Alicia sighed. "Hair appointments, mani-pedis… There isn't enough time in the day."

"Girls are weird, man."

"Yeah, sure- why did you call?"

"Well, I called Kristen and got you…"

"I was the only one who woke up!"

"Oh. I forgot the sleepover was yesterday," Kemp replied sheepishly. "Um, can you wake Kristen up? I have some news for her."

"Yeah, just give me-" Alicia turned quickly, hitting her head on her dresser with a yelp. "Oh, fuck, ouch."

"Are you okay?" he laughed, a snort escaping.

"Today is not my day," she muttered.

On the bed, the two figures stirred. Massie hid her head under the pillow, but Kristen seemed to awaken. She stretched her arms over her head and shimmied more into Alicia's bed, but the Latina called her name before she could force herself to sleep again.

The blonde lifted her head lazily, squinting her eyes to find her friend. "What?" she mumbled.

"Kemp's on the phone."

"That's nice," Kristen yawned. "Tell him I say hello."

Alicia giggled. "Kristen, he wants to talk to you."

"Later," she waved her off.

"She cannot come to the phone right now, Kemp. May I take a message?"

"Tell her it's about the soccer team," Kemp insisted. "It's important."

Alicia relayed this information and Kristen was up and out of the bed so quickly, she woke Massie up with her jumpy movements. The brunette glared at her but merely sat up and pulled her messy hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, grabbing her own phone from the nightstand.

Listening to Kristen speak, Alicia wound up on her bed again, sitting against the headboard with Massie. They didn't talk for quite a while, Massie's fingers racing across her keyboard at an alarmingly fast speed. She couldn't figure out who her best friend was texting, but she figured it had to be one of three people: Josh, Cam, or Dylan.

It was weird to think that Massie was friends- really, really close friends- with Josh Hotz after everything that happened, but it was even weirder to think that Alicia didn't care. She didn't hold anything against him anymore. She wasn't angry or upset that he went after Claire instead of her. In fact, she was absolutely peeved that Claire went on a date with somebody else while dating him. No one deserved that, especially Josh. After numerous lunch periods and interactions in the hall, Alicia could come to the conclusion that he was a really nice kid, even if she was not the one he wanted.

Come to think of it, Alicia realized they were too similar for her to even be happy in that relationship. He was gossipy and a fan of Ralph and that was where she realized she needed someone that possessed all the traits opposite of her to make her happy. She thought Danny was that for her, but look where that got her.

No longer a virgin at age fifteen. Real cute.

"Cam says hello," Massie informed her after clearing her throat.

Alicia nodded. "I say hi back. What's he up to?"

"Mall with Josh. He needs new cleats or something," Massie told her, rubbing her face. "Wants to know what we're doing later."

"I didn't plan our entire weekend together."

"So I can go out for a late lunch with him and you wouldn't care?"

"Of course not." Alicia would never say no to date, even if it wasn't hers. "We're not going to keep you hostage or anything."

Massie smiled, continuing her conversation with her boy toy. Alicia didn't really know what to call him. All she knew was that Claire was still a territorial housecat when it came to him and it made her so happy to know that Massie got him when Claire couldn't.

He and Massie made a cute couple, though. There was no doubt about how well they seemed to fit. They were similar but yet opposites. He was calculating and decisive while Massie was spontaneous and devious. They were almost like puzzle pieces. Alicia liked them together but she had a feeling the relationship would fizzle out quickly. It was too controlled, almost boring.

Gazing around her room, she made a quick mental note to try to pick up as much as she could before Joyce decided to clean. She didn't like her maid to have to tidy up after she had friends over, especially if it wasn't a big mess, like now. She just had to rearrange some furniture and put the bowls of snacks back in the kitchen. Joyce didn't need to come in here.

"-wait, seriously?" Kristen was saying when she tuned back into the real world.

Massie looked up from her phone and Alicia frowned in the blonde's direction. The look on her face was pure excitement…and the call was about soccer…_no way_!

Before Alicia could open her mouth, though, Kristen quickly hung up and turned to face them. She couldn't hardly compose herself and in the next second, the three girls were jumping up and down in excitement. There was no need for an explanation- they understood completely.

Kristen had made the soccer team.

She made the boys' soccer team and was the first- and only- girl to do so.

"What'd he say?"

"I can't _believe _it!"

"Kristen!"

"Guys, give me room to breathe," she ordered, stepping out of their three-person party. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and exhaustion. Her hair was falling out of its messy braid. She took two seconds to compose herself, filling her body up with much needed oxygen before continuing again. "He said that Derrick forced his dad to tell him what was up this morning at their early meeting and he said I was the only one that met his standards, despite the fact that I was a girl."

Massie beamed. "That's great!"

Alicia nodded enthusiastically. "You can play again! I knew how much you missed it!"

"Yeah, I did…" Kristen trailed off thoughtfully. "You think I'll fit in well?"

"Of course," Alicia answered automatically. "Why wouldn't you? You're pretty. You're a beast at the game. They'll love you."

"And if anything, you've got the boys on your side," Massie added, patting her shoulder. "If _that_ doesn't work, I don't know what will."

* * *

><p>Derrick was very familiar with the layout of Olivia's bedroom. He was very well acquainted with her bed in particular.<p>

He was here almost every time something came flying out of left field, leaving him dizzy and confused. He wished he could handle these things on his own, but Olivia always seemed to understand him and give him the best advice. It was just pretty ironic that he was going to one of the girls Massie had hated and ridiculed for a good portion of her life.

Olivia, though, was not what he expected. At school and at events, she was the typical blonde airhead, but when they were alone, she was insightful and intelligent. She got really good grades in school and wasn't the girl everyone thought she was- the one who would run up to a strange car because she believed there were puppies inside.

He wondered why she played a part that was so unappealing, but never bothered to ask. They had a weird relationship: she would listen, but never tell; he would tell, but never listen. Derrick was okay with that, however, because that was exactly what he needed. He didn't want to change just so he could tell her that maybe she should act the way she really was when she wasn't alone.

"Okay," she began, placing her hands on her lap. "From the look on your face, it seems that I've missed a lot."

"I don't have a _look_ on my face-"

"You do," Olivia interrupted. "Just tell me what happened."

"She was walking her fucking dog."

"Is she not allowed?"

Derrick glared at her. "Of course she's _allowed_," he responded. "She just isn't allowed to _lose_ her dog, have her dog find _me_, and then proceed to talk to me like we're still _friends_ and she's not making me fucking _crazy_."

"I'm sure she's not doing it on purpose," Olivia replied.

"How do you know?"

"I don't." She shrugged her small shoulders. "But I don't think she'd be doing it on purpose. Massie Block may be mean, but she's not _that_ mean."

Derrick groaned. "You don't even _know_ her."

"Your point?" Olivia questioned, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You don't either."

"I know enough."

"Enough is not everything," she reminded him. "What do you know?"

"Her favorite color, her middle name, her hobbies, her interests, the brands she likes the most, the fact that she's not a fan of unnatural highlights, her favorite type of shoe-"

"Materialistic."

He frowned. "What?"

"Those are materialistic things, Derrick," she elaborated. "All you know is the things she likes. Her personal life? You don't know it. Her family, her inner thoughts, her fears… you don't know that stuff therefore you don't know _her_. You know her image."

"What?" he repeated, confused. Was Olivia saying he didn't know anything about his ex-girlfriend?

She took a deep breath and leaned forward to grab his hands. "You know her appearance, her image. You don't know the _real_ Massie Block and the only person who does is her. What you know is who she lets everyone see. What she _wants_ you to see."

"Wait… so this whole time, I've been getting to know an _image_?"

"Yes."

"But… I _dated_ her."

"True," Olivia agreed. "For a while, yeah. That doesn't mean you know everything about her. Even married couples don't know each other's deepest secrets."

Derrick rubbed the back of his neck. "So… I don't know Massie."

"Precisely."

"Do you think Cam knows Massie?"

"Probably not."

"Should I get to know Massie?"

He wondered if Olivia was getting annoyed with him- her facial expressions seemed to lean in that direction. "You should always try to get to know someone, Derrick," she answered slowly, "but don't get upset if she doesn't want you to know who she is right away."

He frowned.

"What I'm trying to say is… Massie might not want to let anyone- not even you- in. What secrets girls keep define them as people. It's hard to suddenly open yourself up to someone like that, especially if it is you in Massie's case."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Derrick, you dumped her because you thought she was immature."

"But you know that's _not_ why-"

"_I_ know," she cut him off, which made him a little angry. _Stop_ interrupting him. "But she doesn't. No one does. I don't know how she'd be able to handle that news right now."

"Maybe if I just-"

"Don't."

"You don't _know_-" he spluttered, pulling his hands out of her grasp. He was starting to feel the heat rise in his cheeks, something that happened when he was either embarrassed or infuriated.

Olivia didn't know anything. She knew how everything was affecting him, but she didn't understand. She would never understand until she was going through it herself and he wasn't sure when that would happen. Until then, she was just trying to give him the best advice and even that wasn't working.

"I know I don't know," she murmured, "but I'm trying, okay? You're obviously still shaken up that she picked Cam, but this could be a phase-"

"It's not a phase," he grumbled. "She picks everyone over me. Josh, Kemp, Plovert… they're all there too. She'll talk to _them_ but not _me_."

"You hurt her, Derrick. It isn't going to be that easy for her to get over that." Olivia gently placed her hand on his knee. "Give it time."

"I didn't _mean_ to… I just… I want to tell her that I…" Derrick couldn't find the words to say, unable to speak his thoughts and decipher them in the best fashion.

Yes, he was pissed that she picked Cam over him. He was pissed that Josh got to know all these little details about her. He hated that Kemp and Plovert were allowed to associate with her before he did. All he got was an awkward run-in with her dog and even that attempt at being normal had killed him inside.

"Maybe you shouldn't try to think about it right now," Olivia suggested. "Take a break from it. Take a break from her."

_Take a break_? What kind of advice was that?

They had been on a break. All fucking summer! She hated him. He was miserable. It was just… he was more scared than anything and that's why it happened. Not because he thought she was immature. No, he actually believed she was funny and sure, the whole rating clothes thing had been a bit over the top, but he could've overlooked that.

What he wanted was to go back four months and fix this. He didn't want to take a break. How could he when she was around all the fucking time?

Stupid fucking Cam.

Stupid fucking Josh.

"Derrick?"

He looked up, unaware that he had been glaring down at his fingers, and met her gaze. Her eyes were the bluest color he had ever seen; her face was actually perfect with her ski-slope nose and light pink lips. Her buttery blonde hair fell in waves down her back; her cheekbones were really defined…

Derrick wished that he could have just been attracted to Olivia Ryan in the beginning. She was, in fact, one of the Twenty- practically perfect in every way with Alicia. Of course, he had to be the idiot that liked Massie, who was probably the _worst_ (best) match for him.

"I'm fine," he told her, inching closer to her on the bed.

The only way that sentence would be truthful was if the word 'not' was placed in between the other two.

Her hand was on his shoulder as soon as he was close enough, her palm pressed against his body. "You don't have to do this," she whispered. "You could find other ways to stop being angry."

"I'm not angry." Derrick pushed her hand off of him. "I'm not doing this because I have to. I want to."

If Massie could kiss Cam, he could kiss Olivia.

Besides, he was a little bit angry at the world and Olivia somehow always made it better.

"Derrick…"

"Don't talk," he ordered. "Please."

Even if she wanted to, she couldn't get another word in edge-wise. Derrick's mouth was pressed against hers and his fingers were already pulling at the hem of her shirt, just like they always were.

All Olivia could do was react.

* * *

><p>The Main Street Café was a new addition to Westchester. Found in the heart of the town, it was somewhere Massie always wanted to go. Alicia claimed it was too greasy and Dylan hardly ate outside of her house anymore, so no one would go with her. Claire probably would have but she was too busy with her new DSL Dater friends.<p>

Cam held the door open for her, allowing her entrance first, and she padded inside, taking the time to look around and really take in her surroundings. It was really cute in here, she decided, and she thought Cam was even cuter for taking her here.

"You said you wanted to go here one day at lunch," he informed her, "so I figured…"

She smiled slightly, looking up at him. "You remembered?"

"Well, yeah." He lifted his shoulders up in a sheepish shrug. "I'm pretty good at remembering things. I hope you don't think that's creepy or-"

Massie balanced on her tip toes, pressing her lips to Cam's, shutting him up instantly. Her more prudish instincts were appalled by her behavior but she figured they could go to hell considering she practically molested him at the party a couple of weeks ago.

The kiss didn't escalate from that, remaining just a tiny peck. Still, Massie's cheeks heated up just a tad; she wasn't one for public displays of affection, but she needed to reinvent herself.

"Come on," Cam said, intertwining their fingers.

Just like at any other restaurant, they had to wait to be seated, striking up a conversation with the elderly lady that was holding two menus for them. She was absolutely adorable and it made Massie wish her grandparents were there more instead of always being 'proper' and 'high fashion'. It didn't make any sense- how were _grandparents_ high-fashion? They were people…

It didn't take that long for them to be seated in a nice leather booth. The view was gorgeous seeing that the restaurant was located by the small forest that led to the popular lake most teenagers hung out at during the summer. Birds flew by, most likely their last flight before winter hit, and Massie noticed the leaves were slightly starting to change color.

Across from her, Cam inspected the menu. His brows were furrowed in concentration. Staring at him, Massie realized maybe she should figure out what she would like to eat before the waitress came for their order.

She vaguely remembered how Alicia never wanted to eat in front of boys because it was too much like a married life and almost hesitated. Eating wasn't on her list of skills at the moment, considering so much was going on that made it difficult to do so.

"What are you getting?" she blurted.

"I dunno, probably chicken," Cam responded, gaze on the list of foods. "I would go for a burger but they look huge… What about you?"

Massie frowned, eyes scanning the menu for the first time. Soup was a definite out- she wasn't feeling something _that_ hot. Surprisingly, she wasn't into salad today, which was normally her go-to dish of choice, but maybe that part of her that wanted to reinvent itself was banning salads…

She was drawn to the sandwiches.

"Ooh, I love paninis!"

"Wait, they have those here?"

"Yeah." Massie bobbed her head. "Page four."

Cam flipped the pages and immersed himself in the menu again.

Massie couldn't help but giggle at his excited antics. This was what a date should be like- simple and casual. They were only fifteen after all; why did she always think they had to go to fancy-ass restaurants with dress codes and French foods she could never pronounce?

Her mother had instilled that in her: A man was only as good as his wallet. Did that _actually_ matter? Maybe when she was older and trying the living-on-her-own ordeal. Not now. Not when she was barely a teenager and experimenting with boys during high school. Diners and movie dates were acceptable.

Wow, now that Kendra was gone, it was like Massie's entire world was flipped upside down. In a good way. She was finally understanding that a lot of things she was taught didn't make any sense.

Deciding on an eggplant, mozzarella, and roasted pepper panini, she closed her menu and smoothed out the material of her sundress. It felt nice on her palms which was a given considering it was a Gucci.

Why was she wearing Gucci? She could hardly fit in this stuff. It was always getting tailored and hemmed for her height. Were designer labels really all that important? For adults, yeah, but for _her_? For the Pretty Committee? They could still be pretty and wear Forever 21 or something.

She wrinkled her nose as she looked around the restaurant, waiting for Cam to decide what he was going to eat. Everyone here was wearing something that probably cost more than their house. This was a cute diner. Why did they have to wear that? Go to that expensive Italian restaurant a few blocks away if that was what they wanted to wear!

"So, what's up?" Cam asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

Massie shook herself out mentally and turned to him, unable to help the small smile that graced her lips. He was really cute. "Uh, not much," she informed him. "Just got home from the sleepover, actually, before you got me."

"Right." He nodded. "Why wasn't it at your house?"

She shrugged. "We were getting work done and it would get in the way," she lied, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Figured Alicia's would be a better place. Besides, we hardly hang out there."

"Sounds cool. Was it fun?"

"Yeah, Dylan wasn't there though."

"Why not?"

"She got sick or something," Massie said, biting on her lower lip. "I felt bad for her. She keeps getting the short end of the stick."

"Yeah, I heard about the whole Landon thing," Cam murmured, playing with his utensils. "I wouldn't feel that bad about it if I were her. Crane's always been a major douche."

"It's still not fair to her, y'know?"

"Yeah, I get it. Do you know why he didn't show?"

Massie opened her mouth to tell him, but completely hesitated. Was it okay to tell her boy-with-potential something like this? Was that appropriate? Would Dylan hate her forever? She didn't want to spill anyone's secrets- unless she didn't like them, of course. Even more so, she wanted to pretend that Claire wasn't drifting. Two people she cared about were involved in this situation, so she said the next best thing.

"I heard he went out with someone else."

That would have to do.

Cam didn't look that surprised. "He does that," he admitted. "Like, this summer, he was with some girl- I don't remember her name- and he completely ditched her for someone else. No warning. And this girl, like, freaked about it and was really upset." He paused, taking a sip of his water. "We were playing soccer at the park when that happened and Josh, being Josh, went over to talk to her, which meant that Derrick followed him, and then eventually we were all there, sitting with her while she cried about it."

"I didn't know you guys had hearts," Massie teased, "_aw_."

He tossed his balled-up napkin at her. "We're nice sometimes," he retorted in an equally joking manner. "But anyways , Derrick bought her ice cream from the ice cream man. He thought it would make her feel better."

Massie felt her heart sort of flutter at her ex-boyfriend's kind action and then it fell a little bit because he never did that for her. In fact, he dumped her and she was still feeling a little confused about him. She was hoping this date with Cam would erase all that, but he just _had_ to bring him up, right? Ugh.

"Did it?"

"Not really, but she appreciated the gesture anyway."

She hummed in response, mentally beating herself up for getting her thoughts all in a twist over Derrick Harrington. Okay, he _was_ a nice guy… when he wasn't being a jerk, which happened more often than she would like to think it did. He shouldn't be consuming her every thought while she was on a lunch-date with his best friend. _Cam_ should be on her mind, not her stupid ex-boyfriend with his stupid niceties.

He wasn't supposed to be the nice one. He was supposed to be the one that everyone hated because he was a major tool but he got the girls anyway. That's who he was supposed to turn into. Every group had one. But, of course, it turned out that the select group of boys Massie wanted to associate herself with were all growing up to be kind, mature people. Why was she blessed with such bad luck?

They made mindless small talk- like they normally did- for a while after they made their orders. Cam decided on the chicken like he anticipated and Massie had her heart set on this panini. They talked about school and friends, like they always did, and never really pushed any further than that. They weren't in a type of relationship to know the itty bitty details of each other's lives.

Massie figured that if she wanted to tell Cam about her family life, he would listen and react in an appropriate way, but that was just something she wanted to keep to herself (and Josh). Speaking of Josh, she probably should hang out with him soon. She hadn't seen him in a while.

It was a huge surprise that she told Josh that anyway. There were a lot of things that went on in Massie's life she didn't tell anyone, not even Claire. Before there was Claire, she hardly told Alicia about the things that happened to her. She wasn't very public with her feelings. She always knew that she was only as strong as she allowed herself to be and everyone she was with needed to understand that she was absolutely flawless, even if she really wasn't.

After telling Josh about her mother's betrayal, she was starting to rethink that whole mantra she created for herself. Maybe it was better to tell people when she was hurting. It was nice to know that there was someone on her side at all times, someone to talk to when she got lonely or stuck in her head.

Unfortunately, she wanted Cam to think she was the best thing ever, so telling him anything about William and Kendra was not going to happen.

She focused on other, more exciting things.

"Did you hear about Kristen?" she asked, drying her fingers on a napkin. Their food had arrived and the bread she had was doused in some sort of dressing.

"Yeah, she made the team." Cam chewed, swallowed. "I knew she would. She's really good at soccer."

"I heard the other kids who tried out weren't up to par."

"They weren't," Cam agreed. "They were good, yeah, but Coach Harrington has a list of criteria that they didn't meet."

"And what is that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just know that everyone on the team- and now Kristen- have passed and we're pretty good because of it."

"Except for Danny," Massie muttered. "Kristen was telling me how awful she thinks he is."

Cam rolled his eyes. "He _is_, but Coach has always had it out for Plov, so it makes sense that he kicked him off and not Robbins."

"Who could have it out for Chris?"

"Remember two years ago when he showed up after summer with a broken leg?"

"Vaguely."

"Well, Coach thinks he's a complete moron because he was on the team because of try outs during the summer, but he couldn't play because he injured himself."

Massie wrinkled her nose. "That makes no sense. Wasn't that eighth grade?"

"Yeah, but Coach is Derrick's dad so he knows almost everything about us and our techniques and he was furious that Plovert would let something like that happen to him during his last year of middle school. He's always thought he'd pull some stunt and hurt himself during high school, too."

"Still confused, but okay."

"It's a confusing concept. No one likes to question it."

"I mean, well, as awful as it sounds, I'm glad he got kicked off. It gives Kristen an opportunity to actually be happy."

"Yeah, I'm really pumped to work with her. She could always do this one move I could never and I was hoping she'd teach me."

Massie smiled. "You could have asked her. She'd teach you even if she wasn't on your team."

"True, I guess." Cam's cheeks reddened adorably.

She was about to make a witty remark when her phone beeped four consecutive times in her bag. She ignored it at first, waving it off- it could wait, _really_- but then it did it again. It was her text message tone, she knew that much, but whoever it was had just sent her eight messages in a row. No one had ever done that before.

"Do you…?" she questioned, gesturing to her bag. "It could be my-"

Cam shook his head. "It's not like this is a formal dinner, Mass."

Nodding, she dug through her bag, wrapping her fingers around her phone. She pulled it out, surprised to see it was Kristen and not someone like her father.

**Kristen**: sorry to interrupt  
><strong>Kristen<strong>: I know you're on a date  
><strong>Kristen<strong>: but seriously  
><strong>Kristen<strong>: please tell me you're getting these  
><strong>Kristen<strong>: I am going to call you  
><strong>Kristen<strong>: this is an emergency  
><strong>Kristen<strong>: okay?  
><strong>Kristen<strong>: that was me warning you

Not even ten seconds later, a picture of her blonde best friend curled up with Bean popped up on her screen and she knew that she was getting a phone call. One that seemed very important.

Again, she sheepishly smiled at Cam, but didn't bother asking. Sometimes a girl needed to do what a girl needed to do.

"Hell-"

"Get to Dylan's."

"Nice to talk to you too, Kris, I really-"

"No, you don't get it," Kristen cut her off. "You need to get here pronto and maybe on your way, bring over some Ben and Jerry's, okay? Like, this is serious."

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"Too long to explain over the phone. You'll see when you get here. Gotta call Leesh. Tell Cam I say hello and I'm sorry."

The line went dead after that.

There must have been some sort of look on her face or Cam would have not asked if she was alright.

"Just a little confused," she admitted to him, dropping her phone back in her bag. "Kristen called me and said I needed to get to Dylan's and that it's an emergency…"

He nodded, remaining silent.

"I don't have to go right _now_," she tried to say, but something inside of her told her the complete opposite. She had to go. "I mean, I could wait until you're done and everything."

"Nah," Cam declined and he seemed to really understand. "It really sounded like it was a big deal and I'm not going to keep you from your friends when they need you the most."

"It's probably not _that_ big of a deal…"

"Bros before hoes," he reminded her, smirking slightly.

"Okay." She felt really awful about doing this to him because he was such a nice guy, but really, she had to. Even without his agreeing, she knew she would have to ditch him. Friends came first, no matter what. They could fight like the Pretty Committee did, but they were always there when boys were being suckish.

Regardless, Massie made sure to kiss him on the cheek before she scampered out of the diner.

* * *

><p>"<em>What<em> is going on?"

Alicia was glad that the front door to the Marvil house was unlocked or else she would have probably marched right through it. It wasn't every day she received a message from Kristen practically freaking out; she was the composed one.

When no one answered her, she felt herself start to panic more, and asked again, more forcefully: "Did someone die?"

She padded through the house, looking for her redheaded friend. She wasn't in the den or the kitchen, and Alicia was starting to freak out a little bit more. Where _was_ she?

"Dylan? Kristen?"

"We're in the living room," the blonde's voice sounded.

Noticing the edgy tone, Alicia walked into the spoken room, concerned. She wished she knew what was going on, but the Pretty Committee had split up earlier in the day, not even two hours after the sleepover. Massie had gone with Cam to lunch, and Kristen wanted to tell Dylan about her admittance to the soccer team. Alicia had been perfectly content with sitting at home by herself, but the urgency in which her best friend spoke scared her so much she had exited the house without thinking.

She was still in her pajamas and for once she was not worried about it.

There was a sort of tension in the air that made her uneasy, like something horrible was occurring and she had no idea what it was. She spotted her friends rather quickly- Kristen's getting-long blonde hair was tumbling over the back of the leather couch and Dylan was sitting opposite her, legs crossed, facial expression unreadable.

"What's up?" she asked, wincing at the way her voice seemed to bounce off the walls.

Dylan didn't answer. Kristen's face was lit up by the laptop's screen.

The blonde took a deep breath, finally looking up from her previous work to meet Alicia's confused stare. "_This_ is what's up."

"What is 'this'?"

"Okay, I came here to tell Dyl about the soccer thing and to see how she was feeling, but it turns out she _wasn't _sick and-"

Alicia turned to the redhead. "You weren't sick?" She scrunched up her nose, tilting her head to the side. "Why did you say you were then?"

"I was having a bad day," Dylan explained hoarsely, as if she hadn't spoken in hours. "Didn't want to…" She cleared her throat, making her words come out in a more comprehensible manner. "I didn't want to bother you guys with my misery."

"We're friends, Dyl. Best friends. We like to deal with each other's misery."

Dylan only shrugged, shrinking back into her large pajama shirt.

"Anyway," Kristen continued, sounding irked. Alicia couldn't tell if she was annoyed she got interrupted or if it was due to the situation at hand. "Turns out Dylan wasn't sick and she was lying so she could lay in her bed and wallow in self-pity, like she said."

"Why?"

"I was just about to get to that." Kristen turned the computer screen to face Alicia, tapping it with her manicured fingernail. "_This_ is why."

Alicia squinted, bending her neck to get a better view. "An… email?"

"Not just any email," Kristen snapped, "one from a DSL Dater."

"Why are the DSL Daters talking to you?"

"I didn't know… until I watched it, of course," Dylan said softly, picking at her pants. "I probably shouldn't have opened it, but I was curious…"

_Watched it_?

It was then that Alicia realized there was more to the email than just words. Attached at the bottom was a video clip, something that probably would have gone unnoticed if she had not been told about it. If she were the one to receive this, she wouldn't have opened it.

She swallowed. "Do you want me to watch it?"

Kristen nodded, placing the computer on the glass coffee table between them. "It's necessary that we all do- they're not just talking about Dylan here. They're talking about _all_ of us."

That certainly sounded foreboding.

Her eyes scanned the content of the message and she could practically feel the fakeness in each and every letter. Alicia knew how people acted and pretended to be- she was good at it. This was something that was obviously done in a hurry. Heidi Whatever Her Last Name Is needed to work on her skills.

…_I know you wouldn't believe me if I just wrote it out…_

…_please watch this. I am so sorry…_

Alicia clicked on the link. It was a terrible action shot- she could totally do better than these girls- but she could see (and hear) everything clearly.

It seemed to be some party in some basement. There were boys there. Not that many, but it was obvious they were, and alcoholic beverages. It was too small to be a rager, but it was sort of cute anyway.

She spotted Claire automatically. When you hated someone, it was easy to find them in a crowd. Her outfit was not that flattering- a pair of jeans and a nice shirt. Alicia would bet her entire life savings that she was wearing those hideous Keds she liked so much… and she was. Ew.

She was already getting disgusted at the sight of this shindig, but it wasn't until she heard what was being said that she really started to hate it.

"_Massie is very insecure about everything… so that's why she's such a bitch all the time…_"

The Latina paused the video. "Excuse me?"

Kristen pursed her lips. "Keep going. It gets better." By her tone of voice, Alicia could tell that it did not, in fact, get any better.

"_Alicia thinks that all the boys should like her… she's not even that good of a friend…_"

"Are you kidding me?" Alicia snapped furiously. "I wasn't a good friend to _her_. I am a good friend in general! I care about you guys! I just didn't like her or anything about her. _Why_ would I be nice to her if I didn't fucking like her?"

"Exactly," Kristen hissed, eyes narrowed. "It's ridiculous that she's saying these things about us when we were the ones who made her, you know?"

Alicia nodded. "Without us, she'd be at the very bottom of the food chain, whimpering and crying in Mass' guesthouse like she was when she first moved here."

"Go on," Dylan urged quietly. "She doesn't stop there. She talks about everyone."

Honestly, Alicia didn't want to hear the rest of it. If Claire could talk about Massie and herself like that, what would she say about Kristen and Dylan? They were girls that were a bit more obvious about how self-conscious they were.

Swallowing, she forged on despite her shaky feelings.

"_Kristen is trying so hard to be perfect… I think she's just a know-it-all…_"

Wordlessly, Alicia looked over at Kristen, who sat stoically with her lips set in a tight line. She wanted to say something to her, but couldn't find anything that would be remotely comforting. What Claire was doing to the entire group right now was _not_ something Alicia could find the words for. It was wrong and bitchy and perhaps the girls deserved it, but she liked to think they didn't.

Her gaze travelled to Dylan, who was starting to get pale, and she realized this must have been the point in the video that was dedicated to her.

"_She thinks she's fat… I mean, she got these pig pictures sent to her… if people think you're big, maybe you should stop eating everything because you want to…_"

"No." Alicia let the video keep playing, but she was hardly paying attention. "She can't just say that about you! She can't say this about any of us. Are we talking about her behind her back? I _want_ to, but I'm not because Massie's still friends with her and I respect that!"

Kristen crossed her arms over her chest. "That's what makes us better people," she informed the room. "We could be talking about how she can't dress herself or talk to boys or anything of that sort, but we are respecting her decisions and keeping the things she told us confidential. _She_ should be doing the same."

"I think we underestimated her," Dylan murmured, sitting up straighter. The color was returning to her face. "We thought she would stay the scared, little girl she was when she got here, but look at her now."

"She learned from the best," Alicia sighed. "We should have known she'd end up copying our tricks."

"We should have known she would use them against us," Kristen muttered. "We did underestimate her. I don't think we ever thought she'd waver."

"Where would she even go?"

Dylan shrugged. "So much has changed… we changed because of it, too. Like, we went to Briarwood and what happened? We started to become friends with the soccer boys again and everything sort of shifted. Claire shifted too."

"She didn't change like we did, though," Alicia pointed out. "Wouldn't she follow us?"

"No." Kristen shook her head. "She was immersed in Skye Hamilton. There was no way for her to follow anyone but Skye. That was her biggest mistake."

"It's sad that this happened," Dylan spoke up, frowning ever so slightly.

Alicia licked her lips. "Not really… this just shows that she's easy to manipulate. Too bad she didn't realize that before this happened."

"Who is easy to manipulate?"

The Latina jumped in the air when she heard the new voice, not prepared for an addition to the small group crowded in Dylan's living room. She knew it was Massie, though; there was no one else who would just walk into the Marvil household the way she did.

"Claire."

"Don't say that-"

Kristen cut her off: "You won't be saying that after you watch this, Mass. You need to stop defending her."

Massie frowned, looking at each of her friends for some sort of clue. "I would've expected that from Leesh… but you, Kristen?"

"Feelings change," the blonde responded bitterly. "You should know that."

"I do, but what-"

"Just watch the video, Massie," Dylan instructed, sounding small again.

Their leader looked over at her, face softening when she spotted the tiny, vulnerable form. "What is it? Is this why you took me from my date?"

"It's hard to explain," Kristen took over the speaking, "but it's important. I know you were with Cam, and I'm still really sorry about this, but you needed to see it. It's a code red."

The Pretty Committee hadn't used the phrase "code red" since Claire snagged Cam away from Massie last year, so that in itself had to prove this was something serious.

Alicia sat on while Massie watched the entire clip, unable to look at her as she did so. It was quiet, the only sounds being that of Claire and the DSL Daters. Occasionally, they heard music, but it was gone quickly.

She studied the carpet beneath her feet, appreciating the dark green color it possessed. It was soft and warm, nice against her toes… which needed to be painted again as soon as possible. Alicia was not a fan of bare, naked nails. They kind of scared her. Maybe she could get a mani-pedi on Sunday. One of the girls would probably go with her.

"Okay," Massie finally said after a minute or two of utter silence. "Can someone explain this to me?"

As Alicia searched her mind for the proper description, it was Dylan that answered. "I got this sent to me last night, right before the sleepover. I shouldn't have watched it- I know that was my biggest mistake right there- but I was curious. Who wouldn't be?"

"I get that," Massie responded, nodding her head slightly. "What I don't understand is the actual video itself."

This was where Kristen swooped in. "From the looks of it, they got Claire drunk and forced her to talk. I'm guessing they assumed she would say whatever she knew and that she was an honest drunk. Turns out they were right and she spilled everything she thought about us and the things we may have said to her in confidence."

"All in all," Alicia added, "this just proves Claire was not a good addition to the Pretty Committee and that she is easy to manipulate, which is a trait no one in our group should be able to possess. _We_ should be the ones to manipulate, not the ones being manipulated."

"We should probably hear her side of the story first," Massie insisted. "For all we know, this was made to look like she's the bad guy when she was the victim."

"_Stop_ defending her!" Alicia burst out, locking eyes with her best friend. She didn't like to yell, but this was necessary. Massie did not comprehend the severity of the situation. "I know you want to keep pretending Claire can do no wrong, but _look_. The evidence is right in front of you: she did it! And if she were a good person, she would've warned us about it, told us that she spilt the beans, but she's _not_, Massie. She steals crushes and talks about her friends behind their backs! In fact, if she were a good friend, she wouldn't have gone to this stupid party. She would've been at the sleepover with us and we wouldn't have this problem! Look what she picked, Massie- it wasn't you."

Massie was silent after her outburst, looking down at the ground without a response. Chest heaving, Alicia feared she angered her friend, having flashbacks from previous times in her life when she bothered Massie so much she was kicked out of the group. That couldn't happen again… not when she needed her friends around her.

"That was harsh," Dylan whispered.

"Mass, I'm sorry, I didn't…" Alicia coughed, trying to think of a nice way to put it. "I don't like Claire, you know that, and this is just me trying to get you to drop her because I don't want her around. I just-"

Kristen shot her a look, one that told her to drop it, and Alicia trailed off pathetically, hoping with everything she had that Massie did not dropkick her from here to next Tuesday.

It was quiet again. This time, it was an awkward quietness that made the Latina's skin crawl. Her true feelings were legitimately out in the open now. There was no going back. She told Massie exactly how she viewed the situation and all she could do was wait for the eruption. That was probably the worst part. She couldn't predict the outcome because Massie was so unpredictable. There was nothing to do but sit and wonder and-

"You're right," she whispered. It was a sound so quiet, Alicia almost missed it.

"What?"

Massie swallowed, looking up at her. "You're right."

"I'm… right?"

"Yes." The brunette nodded, rubbing her eye. Her mascara smudged slightly, but no one mentioned it. "Claire chose her own path. I shouldn't try to hold on to my end of the stick if she let go already. I guess I just thought she'd end up coming back when she realized she wasn't happy."

Kristen slid down the couch, placing her hand supportively on Massie's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Claire left. Not you."

"No," Kristen replied. "I'm sorry we never listened to you the way she did. I know that's why you're upset about this. Claire let you talk about your insecurities and problems the way we never did." She paused, taking a deep breath. "We always wanted to see you as some perfect, infallible person, and I'm sorry that's what we did. We should have realized you were just like everyone else. You just had more leadership skills than the rest of us."

Dylan nodded. "We should start to listen to each other more."

"We should start to tell each other more," Alicia agreed, even though a small voice in the back of her mind told her she wouldn't. Not now. She wasn't ready.

"Let this be a reminder of what can happen if we don't treat each other the way we should," Kristen continued. "We need to be equal. Give some, take some. Okay?"

The others murmured their consent, letting the silence reign once more.

It wasn't until the clock in the corner chimed, alerting them that it was around five, that Massie spoke up again. "I'm going to talk to Claire."

"Massie…" Alicia heard herself protest.

"Don't worry," she smiled briefly. "I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. No one talks about the Pretty Committee like that and gets away with it."

"We'll come with you."

"You don't have to."

Dylan, of all people, shook her head, and stood. "She spoke about all of us like that. It only makes sense that we confront her about it. You don't have to speak for all of us anymore."

"If you're sure," Massie said, looking a bit concerned.

The redhead nodded strongly. "I'm a hundred percent positive." Turning to Kristen, she spoke again, this time sounding better than she had all afternoon: "Did you really make the boys' soccer team?"

Kristen gazed up at her from her seated position. "I did."

"I'm so proud of you." A huge- _real _- smile lit up Dylan's face.

Alicia felt relief flood through her entire body. Seeing her friend react like that made her own jumbled emotions straighten themselves out. If Dylan could bounce back from what she just watched, they all could.


	25. twenty four

notes: in honor of me surviving my first week of work, here's an update!

this is shorter than usual, which upsets me because i like the 10,000 word count of my other chapters ): it seemed like a good place to stop, however, and i'm kinda lost on how to get from this to where i want to be. hopefully i can have another chapter up by next weekend, which will probably end up being my update period.

on another note, i don't know if this is bothering anyone, but i'd like to say that i know i'm making everyone get drunk a lot - or maybe i think i am - but i'm really going off of high school experiences. my tenth grade year, to be exact, partially mixed with junior. i mean, it proves for good plot manipulation!

thank you so much for all the reviews - they're so nice! i would individually reply but i'm lazy and tired and want to nap. give me some things you want to see in the next few chapters: i'll include them if possible!

* * *

><p>"I don't think she's home."<p>

The four girls stared up at Massie's guesthouse, taking in every detail. The paint was fresh and new, seeing that it was fixed up earlier that year when the renovations took place. There was a porch swing in the corner, a place where Claire and Massie had spent so much time together after school. Judi's potted plants were gone, but the light wind played with the wind chimes above.

"I don't think anyone's home," Dylan agreed, taking a step back. "The car isn't here."

"That doesn't mean she's not here," Alicia argued, knocking forcefully on the door again. "She's hiding. She knows what she did was wrong and doesn't want to own up to it, so she's pretending she's not here." She pressed her finger into the doorbell three times. There was still no answer.

"For all we know, she's out with her family or something." Massie shrugged. "Normally Todd answers the door."

Kristen sighed, running a hand through her hair. "What a convenient time to go out," she muttered. "She was always scared of confrontation."

"Until now," Dylan replied, shoving her hands in the pockets of her Juicy hoodie. "She's gotten pretty good at it."

"_How_ can she _not_ be home?" Alicia seethed, balancing on her tiptoes to peek through the window. "What happened to the girl who stayed home unless she was with us?"

It was dark inside the house. All the lights were off; there was no muted television or unusual shadows. It actually looked as if Claire was indeed not there.

"She changed just like we did," Massie told her. "Briarwood did that to all of us."

"She should be here!" Alicia insisted, ringing the bell again. "I want to tell her _why_ I wasn't a good friend to her. I may have glossed over the fact that I legitimately hated her, but now there's nothing holding me back- she deserves to know." When there was no answer, she rang the bell again. "And she needs to know it's not okay to call Kristen a know-it-all when she's just naturally smart, and Dylan's not fat, shut up, and Massie, you're allowed to be insecure, and you're really not that much of a bitch unless you have to be-"

Placing her hands on the Latina's shoulders, Massie steered her away from the door. "We've been standing here for ten minutes. If she is home, she's not going to answer."

"I'm just as mad as you are, Leesh, but we'll have to do this another time." Kristen tugged at her hair, pulling the braid out and letting her golden waves free. "Maybe it's for the better."

"How?" Alicia's face was turning pink.

"We're furious. This gives us time to really _think_, you know? Gather what we want to say and not work off our emotions. That way, we sound normal and smart, not ridiculous."

Dylan nodded at the idea, the color completely returning to her face. They hadn't noticed how upset she was over the whole thing, considering she put on a brave front and practically marched to the guesthouse. Claire's words were taking a toll on her, and she was more than relieved that the upcoming conversation was halted for the time being.

"I still think she's a pathetic, sniveling bitch," Alicia announced loudly, stomping down the stairs.

Kristen cackled, sharing a look with Massie. It was always fun to see their friend react this way to situations- she had such a creative vocabulary.

"I'm pretty sure she thinks the same thing about you," Massie offered helpfully.

Alicia whirled around, an appalled look gracing her naturally pretty features. "I am in no way pathetic or sniveling! I am a bitch, though, so I guess that's okay."

"You're only a bitch when you have to be," Dylan corrected, leaning over to pinch her cheek.

Her fingers were swatted away by Alicia's hand. "But I have no one to take my anger out on now!"

"You'll be able to attack soon, Leesh," Kristen giggled. "Claire has to come home _some_ time."

"If that doesn't work out, we'll see her at school," Massie reminded her. "You can slap her all you want then."

Alicia crossed her arms over her chest. "I was not going to result to _violence_. Just… a stern talking to."

"_Stern talking to_?" Dylan parroted, coughing to cover up her laughter. "What does that even mean?"

"Well, I was going to call her out on being a two-faced cunt-"

"_Alicia_!"

"What?" she snapped, turning her head to glare at her blonde, soccer-playing friend.

Kristen blinked. "We don't like that word."

"What word?"

"You know… the one you just said…"

"I didn't say-"

Dylan snorted. "You called Claire a two-faced cunt."

Alicia widened her eyes, covering her mouth with both hands. "That's embarrassing."

"And offensive," Kristen added, a small smile playing at her lips.

"We are the only girls in a school full of boys, some of their language was bound to rub off on me." Alicia shrugged. "She deserves it."

Massie made a face. "Does she really? No one should ever really be called that. It's mean."

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Alicia cockily said, "I'm mean."

The girls just stared at her blankly, even Dylan, who would never really be bothered by names such as that. She was troubled by other things- like _fat_ and _overweight_- but not the types of terms most girls hated.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I won't call her, or anyone, that again."

"Good." Kristen threw her arm around her shoulder, pulling the smaller girl closer to her. "What was it that you were going to do?"

"Oh! Right." Alicia licked her lips. "I was going to call her out on being a two-faced… uh, person" (Massie and Dylan snorted at her eloquent choice of words) "and tell her exactly how I feel about her. Which you guys know already. In case you forgot, I hate her. A lot. Then I was going to yell at her for calling you guys all the things she called you because I _am_ a good friend even though she doesn't think so. Hopefully she'd cry and I'd be satisfied by then."

"You're a terrible person," Dylan noted.

"Because I get pleasure out of crying girls?" Alicia questioned, cocking her head to the side. "It only works when _I _make them cry. If someone else does the deed, I don't feel quite as good. I kind of feel bad."

"I'm glad you have your priorities straight." Massie smiled at her, twisting her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.

Alicia returned the grin. "I know, right?"

Kristen consulted her watch, which now read five-thirty. "What are we supposed to do now?" she asked. "I didn't factor in Claire's not being home."

"Yeah," Alicia agreed. "I thought she'd be there and I figured reducing her to tears would take some time."

"Well, I'm not letting Dylan go home to sit in her own misery," Massie commented, glancing over at her redheaded friend. She was starting to feel better, that much was obvious from the tongue she stuck out at her. "And I have no plans, really."

"I'm still sorry about the Cam thing," Kristen said sheepishly. "You know I wouldn't have pulled you away if I didn't think it was important."

"Don't worry about it," Massie replied. "This was important and I would have been mad if you thought to wait until I was done with lunch. Friends come first. Always."

Alicia nodded. "Cam seems like the type of guy to understand anyways."

"Yeah, he did."

"Still, like, I'll pay for you guys to get lunch again or something…" Kristen looked guilty.

Massie shook her head, rolling her eyes at her friend. "It wasn't that big of a deal," she promised her. "We went to the diner. I was practically done eating by the time you called me. There will be other dates, don't worry."

"Oooh," Alicia squealed. "Are you official now?"

"No. I'm just not interested in anyone else right now." _Lie_. That was a lie, but she couldn't let random Derrick memories mess with her future relationships.

"What a change from the way you acted earlier," Kristen teased. "What happened to _he's just a boy I can kiss when I want to_?"

The brunette shrugged, unable to answer.

"Aaw," Dylan cooed. "Massie's developing feelings!"

"I've always had feelings, loser."

"For _Caaaaam_," the redhead sang. "Am I invited to the wedding?"

Massie shoved her lightly, giggling when she stumbled over her feet and almost fell over, righting herself before she could. "There is no wedding, sorry."

"I'll wait for the invite. I know it's coming."

"Wait." Alicia sounded very serious. "Who is going to be the maid of honor?"

"Obviously you," Kristen answered without missing a beat. "Dyl and I will be bridesmaids."

"Wait, guys, what-"

"And it will be, like, a fall wedding because she won't want to sweat or freeze and October is pretty," Kristen continued, ignoring Massie's question.

Alicia nodded. "It will be themed like _Beauty and the Beast_, not like the talking appliances and such, but sort of like the layout of the castle, because that's her favorite movie."

"And her dress will be strapless and not too poofy because those types of dresses are reserved only for Sweet Sixteens," Dylan contributed. "Also, make sure not to pick pink for the bridesmaids- it clashes awfully with my hair."

"Maybe that guy from _My Fair Wedding_ will plan it!" Alicia seemed thrilled at the thought.

"David Tutera?" Dylan questioned. "My mom knows him."

Alicia clapped enthusiastically. "Call him up! Call him up!"

"Aw, and Todd can be the ring bearer. We like Todd."

"And the cake will be, like, twelve tiers with different frostings on each one, but it will be vanilla on the inside because _everyone_ loves vanilla-"

"We're not even _dating_!" Massie exclaimed loudly, throwing her arms up in the air to grab their attention. "Why are you planning my wedding?"

Kristen and Dylan had no answer to that, but Alicia, being Alicia, replied with: "I think I want to be a wedding planner when I grow up."

For some reason, they thought that was the funniest thing to ever be said, and standing in front of Claire's house, the Pretty Committee burst into fits of giggles. It felt as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders- one that looked a lot like Claire Lyons- and laughing at her steps not only seemed to rid themselves of her, but it tightened the bond of friendship between those remaining. The original group. The core four.

Getting bashed together by someone they thought they could trust could only strengthen them as people.

"Okay, besides plan a wedding, what should we do?" Kristen was the first to recover, panting slightly as she tossed that question at her friends.

"I'd say we could go to town or something, but Isaac is off again- his daughter is giving birth-"

"Oh, congratulations!"

"-and I just walked all the way from there to Dylan's," Massie stated, "so I kind of don't want to go back."

"Understandable," Dylan murmured. "My house is pretty far."

"So… we'll stay here?" Alicia proposed, nodding her head to the massive estate not too far off from their location.

Massie scrutinized her own house, nodding slowly. "Dad's not home," she told them. "I can swipe a bottle of Kendra's wine, if you'd like."

"Kendra has good taste in wine."

The brunette alpha hoped they didn't see the look of distaste on her face when they mentioned her mother. "Yeah, I'm not sure what she has left, but she has a secret stash in her closet…"

"She won't miss it?" Kristen wondered, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Nah."

"Are you sure? We could do something else if it's her _secret_ stash."

Massie threw a grin over her shoulder as she marched from the guesthouse to the actual house. "Don't worry, Kris, she will literally never miss it."

* * *

><p>Turns out there was more wine in Kendra's closet than Massie anticipated. She hadn't searched through it in quite some time, not since the middle of freshman year when she and Alicia were feeling particularly sneaky; she had forgotten how much good stuff was actually in there.<p>

It was the expensive kind, so Massie finally found out where most of William's money went to. He was always complaining about the decrease he noticed in his paychecks, and here it was. Red, white, sparkly- it was all here, and it looked intriguing.

"What kind do you want?" she asked her friends, gripping the necks of various bottles.

"Mom lets me drink red with dinner," Alicia commented.

Kristen wrinkled her nose. "I've never really had before."

"White's my favorite," Dylan contributed.

"Okay, well…" Massie looked down at the group of bottles again, but this time everything looked confusing and different. "I'll just get one of each, then."

"Sounds good."

She grabbed the two at random, making sure they were not the same color, and shimmied out of Kendra's closet. She was grateful her mother stormed out without taking any of her clothes or else this would have been awkward. She wasn't ready to tell them her mother left- it was something she was still trying to come to terms with herself. Without a mother, she was practically nothing, but considering the state of her relationship with Kendra before this, she was nothing to begin with.

Kendra hadn't been around to raise her. She chose that lifestyle. She birthed Massie and then handed her off to grandparents. When she got older, the maid took care of her, and Massie loved Inez, she really did, but it wasn't the same. She wanted her mother to care for her and take her places, not Inez. It was like she hadn't wanted a family in the first place, that Westchester wasn't equipped for that kind of thing, but Massie had seen nice mother-daughter duos around town. It existed here, even if this was the town of money and scandal.

Her father worked constantly, so she couldn't blame him. He was only trying to survive in this expensive town Kendra wanted to live in. Westchester was no walk in the park. Everything was overpriced and fancy and people took advantage of it.

Before Massie opened herself up to anyone (besides Josh, and even that was at a moment of weakness), she needed to open up to herself. The girls would understand when she told them, she was sure of it.

After closing the wardrobe door and making sure everything was back in its place, Massie traipsed into her bedroom with the bottles in hand. She knew Inez would be downstairs until around seven, when she normally ate dinner, so they would be fine until then.

The four girls settled into comfortable seats: Massie on her bed with Alicia, Dylan and Kristen on the small couch by the window. The two bottles sat on her nightstand, unopened as of that moment. Wordlessly, Kristen closed the curtains around the window she was near, making sure no one passing by would notice them. Not that anyone in Westchester really cared, it was something that the blonde was paranoid about.

"Where was the work getting done?" Alicia asked, leaning over to grab the bottle of red.

"What?" _Work_? What work?

"You said we couldn't have the sleepover here because of work getting done…" her best friend prompted. "Remember?"

Massie blinked. "Right. _Right_. It was in the basement."

"You have a basement?" Dylan asked.

"Yeah, Dad uses it as an office," she lied. They really stored food and random things down there. "It was getting dusty and gross, so I didn't want to have you guys here just in case."

"Oh." Alicia finally opened the wine, offering it up to Kristen after she took a sip. "Try this. It's good. You'll like it."

The blonde made a face. "Shouldn't we get cups or something…?"

"Sure." Massie pushed herself off the bed, standing up quickly. "I'll get us some water."

"Real ladies don't need cups," Alicia noted, taking another swig.

Massie rolled her eyes. "I'll get you one anyway."

She exited her room, taking her time to get to the kitchen. She couldn't believe she forgot all about her lie before. She must have seemed so stupid in front of them, blanking on the 'work she was getting done in her house'. When was the last time a lie went right over her head? She didn't know the answer to that.

She was a master at lying. After all, she learned from the best. Kendra had kept that affair a secret for months, apparently, because she was good at fibbing. Massie was obviously losing her touch. She blamed Briarwood. She was just going to blame the school for everything that went wrong in her life.

With a full mind, Massie padded into the kitchen, reaching into the cabinets for glass cups. She would go for the ones meant for wine, but that might be a bit suspicious. Instead, she settled for the ones she used primarily for iced tea and water, filling them up silently.

Behind her, she heard Inez scurry around the room, smelled the beginnings of what would end up being a delicious dinner.

"What are you making?" she asked.

"Pasta."

"With homemade sauce?"

"Of course," Inez responded. "I wouldn't settle for that _jarred _stuff."

What many people didn't know- unless they stayed at the Blocks for dinner on the appropriate night- was that Inez made a kickass tomato sauce, one that took almost all day to prepare. Knowing the older woman, she had started this early in the morning and kept it simmering all day. Massie hadn't been home so she had no idea.

"Good."

"Are your friends staying for dinner?"

"Um." Massie paused, placing the filled cups on a tray. "Probably. Is that okay?"

"Of course it is," Inez replied. "I made enough to feed a small army… and I love your friends."

With a smile, Massie promised to tell them what was for dinner, and returned back upstairs.

There was small talk being made as they waited for her, and she dawdled at her door to eavesdrop. Nothing bad was being said, but it was still kind of weird to be listening rather than contributing. This must have been what other girls felt when the Pretty Committee was around: there to overhear but never to participate.

Alicia was talking about how she wanted to go to Kristen's first soccer game. "Maybe," she said, "I'll go all out and paint my face for you."

Dylan sounded appalled at the thought, but agreed she'd like to go. Kristen just seemed embarrassed by the attention.

At this point, when the conversation came to a comfortable lull, Massie entered her room again. "I'm back," she announced, lifting the tray higher. "You'll have to drink the water first."

She noticed the red wine bottle was lower than it was when she left. Alicia's cheeks were getting a bit pink and she made a face that clearly said _I'm judging you_ in the Latina's direction. Alicia only smiled in response and downed the water in two gulps.

"Here, Kris, gimme your cup." She wiggled her fingers and when handed to her, filled the glass with a generous sharing of wine. "Try this."

Kristen held it in her hand, looking at it. Massie didn't want to watch her as she tried it and gestured for Dylan to hand over the white as she waited. Pouring herself some to drink, she corked it back up and left it sitting in the middle of their makeshift circle, seeing that they all ended up on her carpeted floor.

"Do you like it?" Alicia asked, her question directed at the only wine-virgin in the room.

"It's nice," Kristen replied thoughtfully, taking another sip.

"Is that a yes?"

Kristen nodded. "I'd drink it again if I have to."

"Good!" Alicia exclaimed cheerfully. "Here you go!"

"I didn't even finish this yet."

"So?" Alicia inquired. "Just have some more."

Dylan laughed at her friend's antics, taking her own glass of (white) wine and finishing it off.

It seemed a little boring, but Massie liked this. She was with her friends, having a good time as they chatted and laughed, and it wasn't the same kind of atmosphere as a party. Parties made her uncomfortable sometimes, especially the ones she was going to this year. Carson's proved to her that she couldn't control her actions when she was drunk, even if she understood everything that was happening. Granted, she only kissed Cam and not some weird, creepy guy, but what could happen next time?

As time went on, the content of bottles decreased greatly and the excitement and happiness of the four girls increased as it did so. Alicia was sprawled out on Massie's bed, cuddling with the pillows (and Bean, who had appeared out of nowhere to lick her face). Kristen was still enjoying her drink, but she was letting loose a little more than she normally would. Dylan didn't seem so upset anymore and regardless of the fact that it was because of alcohol, Massie was still pleased she wasn't wallowing in self-pity for the time being.

"Can we talk about something serious?" Alicia asked, turning over on to her stomach. Bean followed her every move.

"We talk about serious things all the time," Dylan retorted. "But okay."

Kristen finished off her glass, placing it on the windowsill behind her. "I can talk serious."

"I told you you would like it," Alicia said, clapping once. Because of that, Bean barked happily. "Mass, I love your dog."

"She loves you too, from the looks of it," Massie returned, getting herself comfortable on the floor. Why it was Alicia on the bed and not her, she wasn't sure. A lot of what happened in the past half hour was a bit of a blur, but she wasn't complaining. Being wine-drunk was more fun than anything else.

Alicia scratched Bean behind the ears before she spoke again. "I'm not seeing Danny anymore."

"Didn't you tell us that already?" Dylan questioned with a frown.

"Did I?" Alicia stopped to ponder, but only shrugged in response. "I don't remember. Anyways, I'm not. And I want you to know why."

"You don't have to give us a reason," Kristen told her. "You can just stop seeing him without an explanation."

"No, no." Alicia pulled at the necklace around her neck. "I think you deserve to know in case you guys get, like, attracted to him or something." She couldn't enunciate _attracted_, something that made Massie giggle.

"No offense but I didn't think he was _that_ cute."

"None taken," Alicia sighed. "He wasn't very nice. I mean, he's a mean person, and I didn't notice until after we hooked up."

"What'd he do?" Dylan asked. "Should we send someone on him?"

"I can get Josh to beat him up," Massie offered.

Alicia licked her lips. "That won't be necessary. It's just… he didn't respect me, you know? He doesn't respect girls in general. He was obviously with Skye when he was trying to get with me so I feel awful about that, but… he just… isn't nice. Okay?"

Kristen nodded.

Massie had this nagging feeling in the back of her mind that her friend might be lying, but she didn't have any evidence to prove that. It was just something she felt in her gut, something that she thought she saw in Alicia's face, but it was gone before she could act on it. For all she knew, her brain was playing tricks on her. That could be the case.

She'd have to ask her when they were both in the right state of mind to think properly.

"I have something to say, too," Massie announced before she could stop herself.

Everyone looked over at her. "What is it?" Dylan asked.

"I lied to you guys," she admitted, picking at her nails. She needed a manicure…

"About what?"

"Getting work done on my house."

"Oh." Alicia wrinkled her nose. "That's okay. If you didn't want to have the sleepover, you could have just told me. I'd be more than happy to have it at my place."

"No… I lied about it because I was embarrassed."

"Of your house?"

"Your house is so pretty, don't be embarrassed," Dylan remarked.

"Yeah, if anything, _I _should be embarrassed by my apartment," Kristen told her. "Which I'm not, because I could care less."

Massie bit down on her lower lip. "I'm not embarrassed of my house… my mom isn't here anymore."

"You told us she wouldn't be home-"

"No, she left." Massie averted her gaze to the floor, focusing on the empty bottle that lay at Kristen's feet. She felt uncomfortable sharing this, but it was time. She wouldn't be able to deal with this without her friends and it only made sense for her to tell the Pretty Committee after she told Josh, even if it made her feel weaker than weak.

When her friends didn't respond, she continued: "For about four months, she was having an affair with Mark, my gardener. Or ex-gardener, since my dad fired him."

"Mark isn't even _cute_," Alicia finally spoke up.

Dylan coughed her giggles away. "And he's a gardener. What kind of pay does he get?"

"Not a lot," Kristen added, quirking her lips.

"That's what_ I_ thought!" Massie exclaimed. "What makes him so appealing?"

"Yeah, how is a _gardener_ more appealing than your _dad_?"

"He's not," Alicia nodded with authority. "William is awesome. Mark is a stupid name."

"But like… she chose _him_. Is there something wrong with me or-"

"There is _nothing_ wrong with you!" Dylan burst out. "Don't think that!"

Kristen found her way to her friend, wrapping her in a hug that felt warm and comforting. "She's the one with something wrong," she told her. "If she's leaving you and William for Mark the Gardener, then she's making the mistake."

"I-"

"Listen to Kristen, Massie," Alicia ordered, joining in on the hug. "This is just another obstacle you can get past. Kendra may be your mother, but she wasn't your family. She wouldn't do this to you if she was."

Another pair of arms later, the four girls were in a full-blown group hug.

"You're my family," Massie murmured quietly, but she felt them tighten their hold on her.

"And we won't leave," Kristen whispered. "We promise."

Not even a beat later, Alicia ended their moment with, "I can't believe she had sex with a gardener!"

* * *

><p>Dinner was still not done by the time seven fifteen came along and William had not yet returned from work. Inez took great care in her pasta, so it wasn't a surprise that it was taking so long to complete.<p>

Alicia flipped through the channels on Massie's television, unable to find something she actually wanted to watch. Around her, the girls were doing their own thing. Kristen and Dylan were talking about anything and everything; Massie was texting someone. It was hard to figure out who it was when she was kinda dating Cam and best friends with Josh.

She vaguely wondered if they were still as drunk as she was, but didn't want to ask. It would be embarrassing if she was the only one still affected by the wine. In her defense, however, she hadn't eaten anything all day. Food hadn't seemed that important when it really came down to it.

The worst part was the fact that there was nothing to watch. Every channel she passed on the guide showed her something she didn't like. Sports were stupid. She didn't want to watch the Kardashians. The good cartoons weren't on at the moment- where was _Scooby Doo_? She didn't want to watch whatever took its place. At this rate, she wouldn't even watch that little yellow sponge.

Until she found _Friends_. Good. Chandler was funny.

For ten minutes, she tried to focus on what was going on in front of her, but it was kind of hard to. The wine was messing with her and she saw blurs of color instead of people. It was sort of upsetting, but at least she could still hear the jokes.

"…_can we kiss like we do in my head? Can we dance like we do on my bed? Like we're still_-" Alicia stopped singing, frowning. "Last time I checked this was not the…"

"That's your phone," Massie told her offhandedly.

"My…" Alicia looked down at her phone on the bed. "Oh!" It was lighting up with a call. She quickly picked it up, not even bothering to look at the Caller ID. "Hello?"

"Hey, Alicia, it's Derrick."

"Hello, Derrick!" she greeted cheerfully.

Massie's head snapped up from her own conversation, glancing at her friend in confusion. Alicia shrugged, having no response to the unspoken question she couldn't figure out.

"What's-" He stopped talking momentarily. "Are you drunk?"

"_Yes_." She scratched her nose. "Is it that obvious?"

"A little bit," he admitted. "You normally don't sound this happy to see me. Or hear me. Or anything to do with me."

She laughed. "Don't be silly," she told him. "I am happy to hear from you."

"That's the alcohol talking."

"Maybe."

"Wow, that makes me feel all warm inside."

"Ooh, I'm glad," she responded, pulling at Massie's comforter. "Why did you call me? Did I say I would hang out with you? Oh, I'm sorry I forgot, really, we had a crisis-"

Derrick cut her off: "We didn't have any plans, Leesh. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Oh." Alicia was surprised. Derrick wasn't even a close friend and he was concerned about her? That was cute. "I'm doing really fab. Thanks for asking."

"Fab?" he repeated, a quizzical tone to his voice. "What the hell does that mean?"

She sighed as if he were the stupidest person on the earth. "Fab. _Fab_ulous. Get it?"

"Seriously?" he asked. "Couldn't you have just said fabulous?"

"I could," she agreed, "but it's not as fun as fab is. Say it with me! _Fab_."

"No." Alicia could practically envision his face: completely blank. He probably thought she was ridiculous- and that was the truth. "I'm not saying that. I'm not a girl. That's weird."

Alicia shook her head. "Your loss. You'll regret this moment, Harrington."

She felt Massie's gaze on her again. Tearing her own away from the television screen, she looked over at her best friend, furrowing her brows at her. "Why are you talking to Derrick?" she asked her.

The Latina shrugged. "He called me, I dunno."

"Who was that?"

"That was Massie."

A beat of silence. Then: "Oh."

"Yeah, I took over her bed. It's really comfortable."

A little bit more awkwardly than before: "Beds should be comfortable. You have to sleep on them, you know."

"That is very true."

"What did you even drink?"

"Wine!" she told him happily, tucking her feet underneath her. "Two bottles, actually, and I think I drank the most."

"You probably shouldn't get drunk all the time, Leesh," he said softly. "You don't want to become, like, dependent on it."

Alicia scrunched up her nose. She'd been doing that a lot lately, she noticed. She should stop… but it was fun. And squished up her face. "I do not get drunk _all_ the time. Just some of the time. I am not dependent on it, either. It is just something I like to do when there is nothing to do."

"Sometimes people use it to make themselves feel better."

"I feel fine," she told him. "I am happy. Content. You know, good things like that."

Derrick sighed. "Alicia…"

"No, stop. You're being a hypocrite."

"How am I being a hypocrite?"

"You get drunk _aaaaall_ the time, Derrick," she accused him. "And don't tell me you don't. I know you do. I know you. You tell me things. I'm not judging you but you are judging me. That's not nice."

"I don't- not _all_ the time," he defended. "Some of the time."

"More than me."

"Fine, more than you."

"I'm glad we could agree on that."

"Yeah, me too," Derrick spoke. "You're not alone with Blo- Massie, are you? 'Cause I could go wherever you are and make sure-"

Alicia interrupted him. "I am at Massie's house with friends. We are okay." Pausing for a second, she continued, "But you can still come if you would like!"

Massie looked up at her with wide eyes, clearly wondering what the hell she was doing, and Dylan looked concerned.

"Uh… I don't-"

"Are you with friends?" she asked.

"Just Plovert, but-"

"Plovert!" she exclaimed. "Hi!"

There was a commotion on the other end, like Derrick was relaying her message. Alicia waited patiently for the noise to go away. "He says hello."

"Yay, good." Alicia settled herself comfortably in Massie's bed again, petting Bean's black fur. "Also, you probably shouldn't come here. That was rude of me to do. This isn't even my house, but if it were, you could come."

Derrick snorted. "Okay, Alicia."

The next thing she knew, Massie was at her bedroom door, listening to whatever was being yelled up the stairs, and Kristen and Dylan were getting up from their seats. The blonde kicked the wine bottles under the bed Alicia was sitting on and headed towards the door.

Massie tilted her head, mouthing the word "food" and disappeared into the hallway.

"Derrick, dinner is ready. It's pasta and I'm hungry."

"Okay. Are you sure you don't need me to come get you and bring you home or something?"

"No, thank you. I'll be fine." She jumped off the bed, almost losing her footing. "_Whoops_. I will call you tomorrow, okay? You're a good person."

He literally laughed out loud. It was a very nice sound, Alicia decided. He should probably laugh more. She'd tell him that later since they were friends now. "You're still drunk, Rivera."

"Shut up," she told him. "I love you!"

"_Really_ drunk," he corrected himself, chuckling.

Alicia made a face. "You're being rude."

"Yeah, whatever, Alicia. Sweet dreams, enjoy your food, ex-oh, call me if you need help later."

He hung up shortly after that, leaving Alicia to wonder why on Earth a boy would say _ex-oh_.

* * *

><p><strong>dharrington<strong>: drunk_ leeshriv _is the funniest thing ever

**hoshjotz**: I've never had a bodyguard before

**thehurley**: RT _hoshjotz_: I've never had a bodyguard before

**clairebear**: wow my head still hurts

**skydancer**: that tends to happen, _clairebear_

**marvilous**: my friends are the best _massieeblockk kgreg leeshriv_

**leeshriv**: _dharrington_ please tell me I didn't do anything stupid

**massieeblockk**: _tlyons_ just sent me a text. All it says is 'blockhead' #thankyou

**kgreg**: can this weekend never end?

**fisherprice**: my brother booked his flight home for the winter holidays – we all know what that means _dharrington hoshjotz thehurley cplov_

**cplov**: shot not being the daddy again_ fisherprice_


	26. twenty five

hey guys, it's been a pretty long time, no?

i lost all of my notes for this story, which was absolutely awful. i had so much planned out and this chapter is none of that /: i'm not sure what's going to happen next, so i would lovelovelove some suggestions! this is me begging, haha.

i hope you like this, though. i tried to incorporate some things i hadn't put in in a while. it's a little short but it felt like the best place to stop. what i have in store for next chapter, though, is a conversation between claire and josh. other than that, tell me what you want to see!

xx

* * *

><p>Massie ignored the vibrations of her phone for as long as she could, trying to stay fixated on the show in front of her. Even after two or so hours of watching, she still couldn't remember anyone's names or half the plotline. It was intriguing, yes, but she was having an extremely hard time concentrating on... well, anything, really.<p>

Josh and his mom - who Massie had practically fallen in love with when they first met - were so cute, eyes glued to the screen and sharing the occasional _aha _moment when they realized that the writers were alluding to a certain event that happened later on in the season. For a while, she kept her gaze on them, wishing she had a family member to spend time with like this, to tell things to and laugh genuinely. William was getting better at the whole 'parenting' thing but it wasn't the same.

Her iPhone vibrated again and she tore away from the scene, ducking her head to check in on the conversation she was having with the Pretty Committee. But when she went to skim through the messages, she noticed that it wasn't just Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen talking to her - Derrick had texted her too.

She caught her lip between her teeth, nibbling ever so slightly. She hesitated, her stomach filling with butterflies at the sight of his name. There was no reason for her body to have this reaction to the simple seven letter word. Too much history was between them for her to feel something for him and she had Cam... sweet, sweet Cam who, quite honestly, didn't really cut it. However, now was not the time for her to mull over her love life.

Thumb hovering over the blonde boy's name, she opened up the conversation beneath it, squinting in order to read the words.

**Dylan**: are we going to talk to claire today or  
><strong>Alicia<strong>: i just got to dance... can we do it after?  
><strong>Kristen<strong>: i can't today. i have to tutor  
><strong>Massie<strong>: she wasn't home when i left. i'd say we wait until tomorrow. she'll be at school

Dylan responded in disappointment and although Massie felt awful for her, there was nothing she could do. Claire obviously knew she was in the wrong; she was avoiding her (ex) friends like they were the plague. Fortunately, there was no way she could hide from them at Briarwood. After all, they were the only girls there.

Alicia and Kristen must've started their individual activities for the messages came to a standstill. They would probably video chat later before bed anyways.

Massie closed out of that after telling Dylan how much she loved her and found herself face-to-face with Derrick once again. She had almost forgotten about that. She hated to ignore anyone - yes, even clingy losers that squealed when she responded to them - but she didn't know what to say. It seemed simple enough, of course, to hold an intelligent discussion with him, but at the same time, it didn't.

He had broken her (naive, innocent) heart with just a few words, turned and ignored her for months, and now he was back, weaseling his way into her life again. All of the boys were, actually, and she didn't quite mind it. Josh, Kemp, Plovert, and Cam: They never really hurt _her_. They caused her friends pain and that was one of the reasons it was so easy for her to welcome them back with (slightly) open arms. Looking at them didn't bring back any bad memories. Looking at Derrick did.

She answered his text anyway.

Every girl - no matter how popular, aloof, and pretty she was - had a weakness.

Massie's just so happened to be beyond cute, soccer-playing, blonde-haired ex-boyfriends.

**Derrick**: can you do me a favor?  
><strong>Massie<strong>: depends on what it is

When she looked back up, she realized the episode's credits were rolling and she had no idea what happened. Great.

"Massie, dear," Gretchen began, standing from her armchair. The brunette girl's eyes widened. Was she going to get in trouble for not paying attention? "Will you be staying for dinner?"

Oh. She felt rather silly for thinking she'd get scolded for spending too much time on her phone, considering Gretchen Hotz was the chillest mother she ever encountered. No wonder the boys liked her the best. "Um... sure," she replied. "If it's not too much trouble, that is. I wouldn't want to impose..."

"Of course you wouldn't be," the older woman responded. "Josh's dad will be home late and Kayla seems to have taken a liking to you."

Massie smiled politely as Gretchen moved through the den and made her way into the kitchen to get the food started. She wondered what they would be eating and she was honestly a little excited to share a meal with a legitimate family. Her mother never cooked her own food. She wasn't even sure Kendra knew how to use a microwave.

"Do you want to watch more or should we do something else?" Josh questioned, swiveling to face her.

"Uh, I don't care," she replied, looking down at her phone again as it alerted her of a new text message. Derrick.

"You don't have to pretend to be interested if you aren't," he pointed out, ruffling his hair with a tired hand. "I noticed that you weren't really paying attention that much before."

Massie shook her head furiously. "No. No, I think it's a cool show, really. I just..." She swallowed, pressing on the illuminated name. "Derrick texted me and I didn't -"

Josh's sock-clad feet landed on her lap as he stretched himself out on the couch they were sharing. "So _that's_ why you looked nauseous. It makes more sense than what I was thinking earlier."

"What were you...?" She paused, wrinkling her nose. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

He lifted his head, grinning. "What'd he say?"

"He asked me to do him a favor," she explained, reading the newest addition to their chat. Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"Oh, yeah?" Josh asked distractedly, pressing the 'pause' button on his DVD remote. "What's the favor?"

"He wants to know if I can walk my dog at eight thirty tonight..." Another text popped up on her screen. "Oh. Because he's leaving Olivia's at that time." She made a face. "I'm not going to change my nightly schedule for him just because he asked."

Her best friend snorted. "Right," he responded sarcastically.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" she questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"Just..." Josh poked at the sliver of exposed skin between her plaid pajama pants and sweatshirt with his toe. "You know you will."

"I will _not_," Massie huffed, even though her fingers danced across her touch screen to respond to him in the positive. She was such a hypocrite. "You know, he doesn't even need to walk with me. I can do it on my own."

"That doesn't mean you don't like the company," Josh told her, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Especially since he's so dreamy and adorable and - _oof_! Not cool, Block."

Massie smirked, dropping the pillow she had just hit him in the face with. "I do not think Derrick Harrington is dreamy," she snapped, ignoring the smiley face the boy in question sent back at her. "I think he's a conceited pig, actually."

Josh crossed his arms behind his head, propping his neck up. "And why is that?"

"Because!" Massie exclaimed. "Why is he texting me these things? I don't _care_ if he's going to be at Olivia's house all night. It's like he's - he's rubbing their relationship in my face! And it's not even a _relationship_. Ugh."

"Does it bother you?" Josh sing-songed. "Because it sounds like it does."

"No, it does not, Joshua," she responded with an edge to her voice. "I just don't like when people flaunt their relationships around, okay? It's, like, not cool, because there's always going to be someone out there that likes one person in that party and it's just... rude, you know?"

His lips quirked in the beginning of a smile. "No. I don't think I do."

"Like... just leave that stuff for when you're alone. Someone is going to be jealous and then -"

"Are you trying to tell me that _you're_ jealous?"

"What? No. This is completely hypothetical." She flipped her long braid over her shoulder. "Besides, I'm with Cam. Why would I be jealous of Derrick and Olivia Ryan?"

Josh shrugged. "That was silly of me to ask," he responded, biting down on his lower lip to fight off the knowing smile that was trying to spread across his face.

"It was. Now let's just watch this." Josh obliged, about to press 'play', but she stopped him. "First, can you tell me what happened last episode? I wasn't paying attention."

"You told Derrick you'd walk your dog at eight thirty, didn't you?" he asked, leaving the television screen frozen.

"That is none of your business," she retorted. "But I don't remember asking you to question my life decisions."

He wiggled his toes in amusement. "I'm going to take that as a yes then."

Massie frowned at him, but didn't make a move to say otherwise.

* * *

><p>Dance class used to be the one place Alicia felt completely at ease. Body Alive was her home away from home. Walking into the freshly-lit, lemon-scented studio cleared her head of all its worries and doubts. She didn't have to be there longer than five minutes to feel instantly a hundred times better about herself. Dancing was something she was always good at; no one could match up to her skills.<p>

Except Skye Hamilton.

Considering her parents owned the studio, Skye was practically a professional. Her turns were sharp and precise. Her toes were always in the perfect position, her knees always locked. She jumped gracefully and had perfected the art of fake smiling.

It was because of the older girl that Alicia was starting to dread Tuesdays and Sundays.

Over the years, she had dropped out of certain courses, finding that she liked jazz and ballet a lot more out of the nine classes she had been taking. Unfortunately for her, Skye was also in those two...and they were always fighting for the spotlight.

It had been anothing grueling day. She was sweating more than usual, mostly due to her nerves at being glared at by the blonde dancer. It seemed that after Alicia slept with Danny Robbins, Skye was out to get her. Not that she hadn't been out to get the Pretty Committee in the first place. It didn't make any sense for the older girl to be going after them - the girls had done nothing to her. Maybe it was just an upperclassman thing. They would probably understand when they were juniors.

Alicia had never really cared before. She always considered Skye to be a bad sport and was upset that people genuinely liked the Pretty Committee more than her silly DSL Daters. Now, however, she was extremely self-conscious - she took something away from Skye directly under her nose, lost her virginity because of it, and got thrown away like last season's Sevens. She knew the blonde knew more than she let on; after all, she was Danny Robbins' actual fuck buddy. And she was mad Alicia got to have him for just one night.

Not only that, but she was putting Claire up against them, having the pathetic girl spill their secrets, believing the popular, older clique really wanted to befriend her. Even though Alicia knew better than that, she couldn't find it in herself to feel bad for her. Claire had stepped in, tried to take her spot as Massie Block's best friend, and she would never get over that. The girl deserved whatever she got.

"Good dancing out there," Skye mocked, shoving past her in the locker room. "You were a little sloppy though."

"I was not," Alicia shot back. "You were."

"_Moi_?" Skye pressed her hand to her heart, blinking her wide eyes dramatically. "Never."

Alicia rolled her eyes, pulling her sports bag out of her locker. She could shower and change at home. There was no need to do it here. "You stumbled in the last combination," she alerted her dryly. "Practically tripped over your own feet. Sad, really."

"I'd watch what you say," Skye hissed, throwing her flaxen waves into a high ponytail on the top of her head. "I could ruin you, you know."

"I'm sure." Alicia slipped her arms into her pea coat, hiking her bag onto her shoulder. "I'm not scared of you, Hamilton."

"You should be," the girl retorted, an evil smile lighting up her face. "Danny told me all of Briarwood thinks you're an easy slut."

The Latina stopped on her way out of the room, swallowing. "Did he?" she questioned, proud of the way her voice was keeping steady. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. If Skye knew, that meant all of OCD did too...

"He thinks so too," she went on. "I mean, what else would you be? No one but a whore gives it up _that_ easily to someone she just met."

Her mouth was dry. "You do," she croaked, licking her lips. "If my memory is correct - and it is, don't worry - you let Chris Abeley have his way with you last year at Troy Jenner's..."

Skye quirked an eyebrow, but didn't look offended. "You do your research, Rivera. I'm impressed."

"You should always know your enemy," Alicia replied. "You of all people should understand that."

"Thanks to your little friend, I know just enough."

"She's not my friend," the younger girl snapped. "Don't even say that."

Skye lifted her hands in mock-surrender, a pleased smirk playing at her lips. "Hostile, I see..." she mused, her teeth showing in a feral grin. "Still upset that wittle Lyons got your boy?"

Alicia flipped her hair over her shoulder, scoffing at the thought. "I could care less about Josh Hotz at this point," she said honestly. "I would say Claire could have him, but he deserves better than her. He might not have picked me, but he doesn't need someone who will cheat on him."

"Cheat?"

"Oh, come on, I'm sure you set that up too." Alicia took the tiniest of steps forward, placing her bag on the bench. "Landon Crane? Interested in Dylan...? Claire took him away from her too."

"Oh." Skye clapped her hands together. "Right. That doesn't even matter. Landon's been a thing with Sam since, like, forever. Dylan never stood a chance. Not that she ever would, considering her size."

"Excuse me?" Alicia's voice took on a dangerous tone. "There is nothing wrong with Dylan."

The willowy blonde frowned sympathetically. "You're saying that because you're her friend, but... she _is_ on the heavier side."

"No, she isn't!" Alicia exclaimed. "And if you think you're going to go after to her again after the whole Landon thing, you thought wrong. I will not let you try to tear her down! She's already self-conscious as it is!"

"Well, I'm glad I could take her down a few pegs," Skye smiled, tucking a stray wave behind her ear. "She has to learn that she's not all that because her mother is the host of some talk show."

"She doesn't think that at _awl_," Alicia snapped. "I swear to god, if you think you can hurt her any more than she already is -"

"Aw." Skye pouted. "You're such a good friend, Rivera, but your little threats don't scare me. How am I supposed to be afraid of someone like you?"

The brunette narrowed her eyes. "I could ruin you just as fast as you could ruin me," she promised. "Maybe even quicker."

"We'll see about that." She looked postively gleeful at the prospect. "I do have _ a lot_ of dirt on not just you but all of your friends..."

"Why?" Alicia questioned, genuinely curious. "Why does it matter to you what our dirty little secrets are? We're not bothering you. We don't even go to the same school as you."

"True," Skye agreed, "but you brats are getting more popular than I am and that isn't going to fly with me. That's not how it works around here. I'm older therefore I should be the one you four should be ass-kissing. Not the other way around."

Alicia blanched. "You're doing this because everyone likes us more than you?"

Simply, Skye nodded.

"Are you freaking kidding?" the youngest all but shrieked. "You manipulated Claire just to make sure _you'd_ be more popular? How self-absorbed are you?" She shook her head, running her fingers through her loose side bangs. "That's pathetic. _You're_ pathetic. I hope you know that whatever you do won't work. The fact that everyone likes us better is your own fault."

"That may be the case, but after I'm done with your little group, everyone will be wondering why they made that decision in the first place."

A frown pulled at the beta's mouth. "Let's hope they don't think you're deplorable instead."

"They'll be too busy wondering how a group of stupid, immature, little girls managed to claw their way to the top." And with those last parting words, Skye shouldered past Alicia, pushing her into the metal row of lockers, her hair bouncing with each step she took.

Even after she was gone and Dean had called to say he was outside, Alicia stood still in the empty shower room, her mind whirling. The older alpha seemed to think she had one over her, but what could she possibly know about them? The Pretty Committee was good at one thing and that was disguising their insecurities. No one besides them knew what they were the most worried about. There was no way she could have figured it out...

But it suddenly all made sense. There was a reason Skye pulled Claire in and made her a DSL Dater.

You know what they say - you're only as strong as your weakest link.

* * *

><p>Her finger pressed into the doorbell before finding its way back into the pocket of her coat once more. She was not the type of person to do something like this, but at the rate everyone else was going, she was never going to find out why Claire did it. Massie, Kristen, and Alicia could wait until tomorrow to throw their two cents at her. Dylan needed to know now.<p>

It had taken a lot of courage to come here on her own. The redhead normally liked to follow Massie when it came to confrontations, but this was important. The other girls weren't targeted as much as she was. Sure, Claire said some bad things about them, but Dylan was mainly who she decided to bash. She indirectly called her fat. She spilled her insecurities to Skye Hamilton. Dylan wasn't there to make Claire cry like Alicia intended; she just wanted to know why.

The door opened shortly after the ring of the bell stopped and Todd was standing at the door, his hair messy and askew. "Hey, Dylan," he greeted in confusion. "Are you here for Claire?"

"Yeah, she's home, right?"

Todd nodded. "In her room, actually. Do you want me to go get her for you?"

"Uh, no, that won't be necessary. I'll go to her."

The younger boy stepped out of the way, allowing Dylan to enter the house. She made her way to the staircase as he closed the door behind him, going back to whatever he was doing. She climbed the steps to the second floor, padding into the hallway and knocked twice on Claire's door.

"Todd, I don't want dinner, stop bugging me!" the girl she wanted to speak with called from the other side.

Dylan turned the doorknob regardless of the less than stellar way the blonde spoke to who she thought was looking for her. "It's not Todd," she spoke softly. "It's me." Now, she was fully in Claire's room.

Claire pursed her lips. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to talk," she replied honestly. "May I sit?"

"No," the blonde said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Regardless of her attitude, Dylan sat herself down at Claire's desk, turning the chair to face her. "What have I ever done to you, Claire?"

"You tried to send me to social Siberia, if I can recall correctly."

"After that," Dylan insisted. "When we became friends, I didn't try to hurt you or ruin you. Friends don't do that to each other."

Claire only blinked at her, remaining silent.

Dylan licked her lips. "If that's the case, why did you do it? Why are you telling everyone my insecurities? Skye's friend Heidi sent me a video of you telling them that I think I'm fat, that _you_ think I'm fat."

"I was only telling the truth," Claire finally spoke, her voice different. Harder. "If you think you're fat, everyone else is going to believe you. It's not like you're doing anything about it - you eat all the time, you eat too much... You embrace it and then you complain about it. It's your own fault you feel that way about yourself."

"But that doesn't mean you're allowed to _tell_ people," Dylan shot back at her, abandoning all thought she had of a civil conversation. "Everyone has a something they are self-conscious about. We all do. _You_ do. I'm not telling anyone how you think you don't fit in here, am I? No. I'm respecting your insecurity even though you are not respecting mine."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Don't try to make me feel guilty, Dylan. You aren't my friend. I shouldn't have to respect anything about you if you don't respect me as a person."

"You're right. I'm not your friend. Not anymore."

"You never were!" Claire exclaimed, running a hand roughly through her hair. "I never once felt like I belonged and that's thanks to you and the rest of the Shitty Committee."

"_Claire_ -"

"Do not 'Claire' me," the blonde snapped. "You all deserve whatever is coming at you. I wasn't invited anywhere. I was used to make the rest of you look better. I finally understand, okay? Thanks for making fun of me this entire time."

"We weren't making fun of you," Dylan tried to explain, feeling the urge to pull all her ginger curls out. "You were like a breath of fresh air to our superficial group. We liked you."

Claire scoffed. "I'm not in the mood to listen to your lies."

"I'm not lying to you. I'm trying to figure out why you did all of this to me. Why you took my date away from me when you had a boyfriend. Why you -"

"He didn't even want to go out with you," Claire muttered. Dylan strained her ears to hear the rest of it, but the girl stopped shortly after that.

"What was that?" she asked, hoping she heard wrong.

"Landon didn't want to go out with you," Claire spoke up, meeting the redhead's emerald gaze. Her blue eyes were icy. "Skye made him as part of an elaborate plan to bring down you and the rest of the Pretty Committee."

Dylan was silent, but Claire went on, knowing fully how much this was affecting the girl.

"He's not attracted to you in the slightest. He only took care of you that night you were drunk because he felt bad. He thought you had no friends." There was a pause here as Claire stopped to gauge her reaction. Dylan hoped to god her face didn't show how she was feeling internally because she felt as if the room was going to collapse in on her. "There was nothing there for him, not even the smallest of sparks. He, like the rest of the boys at Briarwood, thinks you're fat."

_He thinks you're fat._

_Like the rest of the boys at Briarwood._

Dylan swallowed roughly, blinking away the tears she wanted to so desperately let fall. She couldn't give Claire the satisfaction. Sitting there, in the blonde's room, she wished she had waited until tomorrow like the rest of her friends. Then maybe she wouldn't have to hear this - Alicia would make Claire cry, Claire wouldn't make anyone else cry. The Pretty Committee would have been able to hurt Claire's self esteem, but alone, Dylan could only do so much. She wasn't even that big of a threat these days.

"What?" she managed to croak, disappointed that she didn't have a witty comeback like Massie to shoot back at her.

Claire smirked, playing with the earring in her ear. "Chris and Kemp... they thought you were disgusting, fat. They got to see it in person when we all used to hang out. The rest of the boys are starting to believe them. No one thinks you're attractive, Dylan. Quite frankly, they feel bad for you. It's so obvious Massie only brought you into the group because you have a celebrity mom and she wants to go to huge parties. No one really cares about you."

"You're wrong," Dylan told her, even though her very core was quaking. She wasn't right... was she? "Massie, Alicia, Kristen... they're my real friends. You never were. I could care less if boys like me or not." Lie. "I just need them. And I will always have them."

"Whatever you say," Claire shrugged.

"It's you who won't have friends." Dylan sounded a lot more confident than she really was. "Skye and the rest of the DSL Daters don't even like you, Claire. You're just too daft to actually see it. They're using you for their own personal gain."

"Lying is going to get you nowhere," the blonde told her, stretching languidly over her head. "Skye cares more about me than you guys ever did. She's helping me to become someone the Pretty Committee could have never let me be: my own person. You guys thought you could keep me around and morph me into whatever you needed me to be. I wasn't going to stand for it any longer. If it weren't for Skye, I would have never realized what you were all up to."

Shakily, Dylan rolled her eyes, her mind still consumed with Claire's previous words. "We weren't up to anything, Claire. I don't know how tightly wound around Skye you are, but it's downright nauseating how easily you believe her." She stood from the rolling chair, wiped her palms on her jeans, and stared at her thighs longer than she should have. "I hope you find out soon just how easy you are to manipulate. When that happens, you'll realize that we were your real friends and we had nothing but your best intentions at heart. Until then, don't speak to me and don't even look in my direction."

"I wasn't planning on it."

Dylan trudged out of the room, stopping at the doorway to make sure she had the last word: "And FYI, you're so not allowed to sit with us during art."

Without waiting for Claire to respond, she fled from the room, descended the stairs, and exited the house. It didn't look like Massie was home; she couldn't stop by or ask for a ride back to her house, so she was stuck with the dreaded task of walking home. Merri-Lee was, of course, at work.

She kept her mind blank for the most part until she stopped by a storefront and made the mistake of looking at her reflection in the glass. She froze, unable to move when she saw herself. She was an absolute mess. Red, frizzy hair, a fat face, an inability to dress herself to look good. Her skin was pale and freckly and gross. Everything that Claire said, she was. No wonder boys didn't like her. She wasn't pretty at all. Landon had lied.

Swallowing roughly, she tore her gaze away and continued on her way home. She needed to analyze her eating habits and exercise routine. Obviously whatever she was doing was not enough. She was still the same weight and look she was a few months ago, when the pig pictures really started up. She needed to drop those pesky pounds that made her look different from girls like Massie and Alicia.

She needed to be pretty.

* * *

><p>The next day at school proved to be quite... uncomfortable.<p>

Kristen wasn't sure what was going on, but she was extremely relieved that Claire had decided to not sit with them during their first period class. It was too early for a confrontation. That could wait until later, even if Alicia was itching to get her claws in the Floridian's skin.

What remained of the Pretty Committee hardly focused on their art projects. While the music played in the background and the boys around them were consumed in their assignments, the four girls leaned forward, their heads so close together in hopes that no one would be able to overhear their conversation.

"What are we going to say to her?" Alicia asked, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the girl in question. She was sitting with some kids Kristen had never bothered to learn the names of, but they seemed to know her. Skye's friends, perhaps?

Massie sighed. "I'm not too sure," she admitted. "I want to go after her for saying all those things to Skye, but at the same time, I don't want to play into her little game."

"I understand," Kristen spoke. "I think we should just be able to move past this. Let her think she won."

"Are you kidding?" questioned Alicia, frowning. "I want to make her cry!"

"You can make her cry any other time," the sporty blonde reminded her. "Right now, we need to pick our battles and I don't think this is the one we should focus on."

Dylan caught her lip between her teeth, but kept her mouth shut. In fact, her eyes were downcast, preoccupied with the task of watching herself color the edges of her paper.

"Skye told me she's trying to ruin us, though," Alicia told them in exasperation. "We can't let that happen."

"And we won't," Massie promised. "She may think she's got the upper hand, but she doesn't. When she realizes we don't care what she does to us, she'll stop."

Alicia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It means..." Massie paused, scratching the back of her neck. "She thinks by telling everyone our secrets that we'll somehow crash and burn. What I think is that once the rest of Briarwood and OCD find out that we're just like them, they won't care."

"So, you want them to know our secrets?"

"Not our secrets, per se," Massie corrected, "but let them know we have insecurities too. We're practically like celebrities. Everyone loves famous people more when they find out that they're a little bit closer to normalcy."

Kristen blinked, slowly contemplating this. "So I should let her tell everyone that I'm practically a know-it-all and a perfectionist?"

"Yes."

"And that my body makes me feel uncomfortable and that I don't like when boys leer at me for it?"

"Yes."

"And that I have body image issues?" Dylan asked, her first words in the conversation since she greeted them all with a 'good morning' earlier in the day.

"Yes." Massie nodded. "And they will find out that I'm actually very insecure about a lot of things."

Alicia looked at her oddly, playing with the stacked rings on her finger. "You're sure this will work in our favor?"

"About ninety-nine percent."

"What about the other one?" Kristen asked, her mind spinning. She had a lot more going for her than just being a stickler for the rules and such. She was on a scholarship. Not many people knew that. She lived in Brickview Apartments, not the fancy hotel next to it. She had money troubles. Claire knew all of those things. If she let them out... would people look at her differently? She was already self-conscious about them in the first place.

Massie shrugged. "That doesn't matter. I don't think it will come down to it."

"What is it?" Alicia urged. "You have to tell us how it will go wrong."

"It won't go wrong," the alpha told them. "I can promise you that."

"But you can't promise it a hundred percent," Dylan pointed out. "Don't leave us in the dark."

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The worst of it is they could think we aren't fit to be the leaders we've made ourselves to be."

"And that's what Skye wants, isn't it?"

"That's what she said, right, Leesh?"

The Latina nodded. "She told me that she was angered people liked us more than her when that's totally her fault. She thinks that because she's older, she should wield all the power when in actuality she shouldn't have any of it."

"But we are no better than her," Dylan murmured. "It's not like we use our popularity for good or anything. We've been complete bitches for no reason."

"Believe me when I say Skye's done worse things," Alicia told her. "She makes sure everyone knows they are beneath her for no good reason. Sometimes, we have to remind people that they are."

Kristen bobbed her head in a slow agreement. "Okay," she said, "so are we turning over a collective leaf?"

"We were bound to eventually," Massie told them all. "Briarwood changed us in the smallest of ways - why not in a bigger one?"

"I hope this works," Dylan sighed. "I'm really not in the mood for yet another social war this year."

"Same," Alicia stated. "If this works and we can avoid dramatic confrontation, I'll be thrilled. There's already so much going on this year without the whole Skye and Claire debacle."

Massie nodded, putting her outstretched pinky in the middle of the table. One by one the other three girls followed suit, linking their fingers together and making a promise to try to be as real and down to earth as humanly possible.


	27. twenty six

**this was probably one of my favorite chapters to write. i don't know why, but it was a lot of fun. i'm debating what the next chapter should be about, but i think it's going to end up prepping the rest of the story for a two month jump. **

**i figured i'd get this out before i went on my four day vacay (not really one, but i like to pretend). i'll see you all after i experience college for the first time at orientation! wish me luck!**

**thank you kindly for the reviews! i really appreciate them all!**

**oh, and if you're looking for some good music, i suggest andy grammer and ben howard c:**

* * *

><p>She might have said it before, but really, it deserved to be said again: English was Dylan's least favorite class.<p>

Not only was she unable to properly understand her native language (sad, really), she was not in the best company. She didn't really know that many boys in her room, just a select few that she had either met at Carson's party or knew before transferring here. The worst one just so happened to be the boy sitting in the row beside her.

Kemp Hurley.

Just the thought of his name brought an uncomfortable feeling to her stomach. She had legitimately liked him last year - what was wrong with her? There was nothing _that_ appealing about him. Okay, yeah, he had a to-die-for smile, and sure, his hair was nice, and she'd agree with anyone if they mentioned how pretty his eyes were. He was a ten in the looks department, but he scored a negative three for personality. Kemp was a shitty person, even if he apologized for his previous behavior. _I'm sorry _just didn't cut it; it didn't erase everything, just like she told Plovert. It was a very sweet, grown up thing to do, but if she thought about it, it didn't change anything.

Unfortunately, Kemp seemed to think it did. Who did he think he was, turning in his seat to grin at her when their teacher made a particularly funny comment? They weren't friends. She did not want his attention like this. Looking at him only brought back memories of thinking she wasn't good enough or pretty enough for anyone.

And that was the reason she shot her hand in the air, fingers wiggling to catch her teacher's attention.

She didn't want to have to look into his sparkling brown eyes again or witness his smile. It was so hard to believe he wasn't a horrible person when he was so cute. The only thing she could do to clear her head was leave.

" - start _Lord of the Flies_ tomorr- yes, Miss Marvil? Do you have a question?"

Dylan dropped her hand after smoothing down her voluptuous curls. "I was just wondering if I could use the ladies' room?"

"Go for it," he answered, throwing himself right back into his previous spiel about the book they would start reading the next day.

The fourteen year old stood, hiking her bag's strap on to her shoulder, and flounced away from her seat...only to be stopped in front of Kemp's desk by his foot.

She narrowed her cat-like eyes, glancing down at him in annoyance. Really? Not friends!

He smiled at her expression before whispering, "Are you really going to the bathroom?"

She huffed. "Yes, Kemp. Girls are allowed to pee too, you know."

He chuckled, letting his foot drop to the floor. "Just wondering," he told her easily. "You never know with you girls."

Rolling her emerald orbs, she didn't answer, continuing on her way out of the room. Once she was in the hallway, she let out a deep breath, running a hand down her face in exhaustion. Kemp literally pulled her in so many directions. Sometimes he pretended she didn't exist - and she liked that! - while others he talked to her, acting as if they were buddy-buddy when they weren't. Things just couldn't go back to _normal_.

Her heels clicked and clacked against the tiled floor as she roamed the halls; she really didn't have to use the bathroom. If she did, she had to trek it all the way to the nurse's office and that was too far for her. She would just find a water fountain or something and hang around there until she decided to return to class. There was only about ten minutes left anyway.

"Dyl!" someone called when she rounded the corner. The voice, as familiar as it was, did not make her happy, so she ignored it. "Dylan! _Dylan__!_"

She kept her face forward, walking with a new purpose: Ignore Landon Crane.

He was just as bad as Kemp.

Maybe she should take a break from boys altogether...

"Dylan, I know you can hear me," the older boy panted, his breaths too close for comfort. "You can't ignore me forever."

"I can if I want," she snapped, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "You should learn when to take a hint."

Landon cursed under his breath, jogging in front of her, giving her no other option but to stop in her tracks. "Look, I'm sorry about the other day. Claire said she needed my help and you'd understand, so I don't understand why you're ignoring my calls."

"You are so _stupid_," Dylan muttered, stepping around him.

He sighed loudly, following her, his footsteps loud and hurried. "Do you want to tell me _why? _What did I do to you?"

"If you don't think going on a date with Claire when we had plans is a problem, I don't know how you made it all the way to eleventh grade."

"Date?" he reiterated. "I didn't go on a... _oh_, you think I ditched you for Claire?" He actually had the audacity to laugh out loud at the thought! Dylan gritted her teeth. "Claire's pretty and all, but she's not my type."

"Yeah, whatever," Dylan hissed. "Leave me alone."

"Come on, let me make it up to you," he begged. "She told me she talked to you about it and you understood..."

"As if." She snorted. "Kuh-laire and I are not friends, Landon. She's a two-timing, lying skank, alright? And she's your perfect match. Congratulations."

Landon blinked, looking confused. "Um... I sense some hostility here, but can you not take it out on me? I didn't know you two weren't friends. She made it seem like you were."

"Of course she did!" exclaimed Dylan, throwing her hands in frustration. "She's a manipulator. Just go away. I don't want to talk to you or see you ever again."

"But I didn't _do _anything," he snapped, stomping his foot in what looked like the beginning of a temper tantrum.

Dylan quirked an eyebrow at him, unable to hide her amusement. He was acting like he was five. "Exactly," she told him when she decided the situation wasn't funny anymore. "You didn't text to tell me you wouldn't be there. You hung out with Claire instead, standing me up. I'm sorry but I don't give out second chances all that easily."

"Dyl -"

"Besides, I know you're only doing this because you feel bad for me. Well, guess what? I don't _want_ your pity. I don't care what you think of me. You may think I'm a heavy girl, but I'm perfectly content with myself."

If only she meant what she said... Sigh.

"What?" he questioned, frowning. "I never said -"

The redhead shrugged her shoulders, patting herself on the back for her nonchalant demeanor. "In the future, you should just be honest with girls. Leading them on will get you nowhere. Go back to Samantha or something." She rolled her eyes at him, wishing she had a bathroom to escape into, but of course, having a girls' room was too silly an idea for the school board to consider. "Better yet," she remarked, turning on her heel, "go back to Claire. I'm sure she'll love to find out her plan worked out in the end."

Without giving him a chance to respond, Dylan took the shortest route she knew back to her English classroom, heart pounding in her chest. Landon was pathetic - almost as bad as Claire, even. Did he really think it took an apology to get her back? What was it and boys thinking that was the case? It wasn't. "I'm sorry" was the easiest phrase to say. You didn't have to mean it. It was thrown around so carelessly it was appalling. Dylan hated it.

In fact, she hated words in general. They hurt more than they should. She wished her life weren't so impacted by them, wished she was stronger than them, but when push came to shove, she was not.

Sticks and stones might break her bones, but words would _always_ hurt her.

* * *

><p>Claire brushed the hair out of her face, making the trek from her locker to the fountain in the quad in front of Briarwood. Her mind was whirling with thoughts, so many that she felt slightly nauseous, but she needed to mull them over. There was no way she could help herself if she didn't.<p>

So much was going on in her life that she couldn't control - her mother's departure, her brother's new attitude, her father's frequent absences. There was no way she could have stopped Judi and Jay from separating even if Todd claimed it was "her fault". She could prove it wasn't. The move was the reason they had drifted in the first place. She couldn't stop her from leaving them either although she beat herself up about it constantly. Todd's moodiness and overall teenager-ish tendancies were his problem, not hers. And just because Jay spent so much time at the office and picking up take out didn't mean she should feel bad about it. There were more important things for her to worry about, mainly making _herself_ feel better.

In order to do that, she had to eliminate all things that brought her down.

She realized early on that the Pretty Committee was not a healthy friendship. Yes, they looked like they were best buds, but it was really just a competition to be the best. The best dressed, best liked, best mannered... Alicia, Dylan, Kristen, and Massie looked and played the parts of Barbie, always making others feel bad about themselves with just one look.

Claire should have realized they didn't like her before she got roped into their world. They made it perfectly clear they hated her when she first moved here. Why had she been so difficult? She could have avoided all of this if she had just stopped trying so hard. Unfortunately, Claire was stupid and naive when this all occurred meaning she couldn't see it. The best she could do now, after going through almost a year of absolute hell, was to rid herself of everything that tied her to them.

Because of his friendship (see: obsession) with Massie, Josh had to go. It was only right. Hopefully she wouldn't break his heart too much.

Stopping a few steps away from her boyfriend, she took a deep, cleansing breath before poking him confidently on the shoulder, alerting him of her presence. He turned around at a fast pace, face completely impassive. Well. Was she expecting anything less? He was probably mad at her for being so distant lately.

"Hi," she greeted, squinting against the sun's harsh rays.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Hey."

They stood there for a while, awkwardly in silence as they surveyed each other. Claire took a good look at him, almost as if she were committing Josh to memory. She almost felt bad she was ending things with him. He was cute what with this brown eyes lighter than Alicia's but darker than Derrick's, his hair that fell perfectly into those very chocolate orbs, and his smile that could melt a heart. His personality was to die for as well - Josh Hotz was basically an all-around great catch. It pained her to have to let that go.

"You wanted to talk?" he inquired, his eyebrows creasing in the smallest of ways.

She nodded. "I did."

"Then talk. I'm not going to figure out what you want to say to me by staring at you."

She swallowed, clearing her throat of all her Florida Claire worries. Being weak and scared would not do her any favors right now. "I want to break up," she blurted, squeezing her eyes shut as soon as the words left her mouth. His facial expression once he fully comprehended her would be destructive.

One beat of silence later. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven...

"Okay."

Claire's eyes flew open. Surely she heard wrong... "Okay?" she parroted. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm agreeing with you?" Josh responded in more of a question than an answer. "That is what you want... isn't it?"

"Obviously or else I wouldn't have said it." She tossed her hair over her shoulder, letting a frown tug at her lips. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to say 'okay' to breaking up. He was supposed to be upset! Maybe even cry. After all, he picked _her_ over _Alicia Rivera_.

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem is that you're not supposed to want the same thing as me!" she squealed, feeling the anger she was so accostumed to rise in her body once more. "You're supposed to fight for me to stay with you!"

Josh blinked at her and the next thing she knew, he was laughing at her. _Laughing_.

"Um, excuse me?" She would not tolerate his rudeness. This was a very serious matter.

"Claire, I don't know what you think this is, but it's not a Nicholas Sparks novel."

All she could do was look at him dubiously. Was there a point to this or...? Despite her annoyance and confusion, she decided to humor him, nodding at him to continue.

Josh sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You've been distancing yourself from me for a while now. I haven't seen you or even talked to you since Carson's party and that was two weeks ago. I've been trying here - texting, calling - but you've ignored every one of my advances, either pretending they didn't happen or telling me you were too 'busy' to talk for even five minutes. I don't want to be part of a relationship where I keep giving and giving and all you do is take. I'm sorry that I'm not trying harder to keep together something that was meant to fall apart."

Her jaw dropped unattractively, eyes as wide as saucers. "So, what you're saying is that this relationship was a mistake and you regret it?"

"That's not even _close_ to what I was -"

"Did you even _like_ me?" she demanded, cutting him off right in the middle of his sentence. Whatever he had to say could wait. It probably wasn't important.

"I did like you!" he exclaimed, looking appalled that she would even suggest such a thing. "But I liked a different Claire than the one standing before me. You changed."

Claire scoffed. "That tends to happen as time goes on. Look around, everyone is different."

"Different in little ways. You changed so drastically I don't even _know_ you anymore."

"I'm still the same. I just pushed the shy, pathetic girl to the side and let my true personality shine. I have to prove to everyone that I'm not a doormat they can walk all over. Along the way, the message wasn't clear enough."

Josh shook his head. "I don't want you to think that I didn't want to date you. I did - but right now, you're not who I was dating. I'm not saying if you were to ever go back to old Claire, I'd like to start over, but you'd be easier to tolerate. Massie and the rest of the girls would probably like you a whole lot more if you just -"

"It's always _Massie_," she shrieked angrily, throwing her hands up. "What is up with your stupid obsession with her? It's like you're in love with her or something!"

He coughed out a startled laugh, cheeks reddening. "What...? I am _not_ in love with Massie. I'm - I - we are best friends. That's all."

"Yeah, sure," she snapped. "And I'm the queen."

"The fact that you're so caught up on her is actually astonishing," he told her. "It's not some competition between the two of you, I hope you know that."

Claire chuckled humorlessly. "But it is, Josh. It _is_. Everything about Westchester is a huge competition, _especially_ if you're part of the Pretty Committee."

"Well, hey, look at that - you're not!"

She gritted her teeth. "Good thing too!"

Josh stared at her, rubbing his face with his palm. "This isn't how I wanted this to go," he said softly. "I just wanted us to be able to break up and still be friendly afterwards."

"That isn't going to happen if you're going to pick Massie's side," she informed him snootily, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's not about picking sides. I'm not picking anything - this isn't a war, Claire."

"It is, though, and you're too stupid to realize it."

"Hey, that wasn't very -"

Claire sighed dramatically, piercing him with her blue-eyed stare yet again. "This conversation is boring me. Have fun with whatever you do in life and if anyone asks, remember: _I_ broke up with _you_."

"Why does it matter who broke up with who? It was mutual."

"It would look bad if I was the one who got dumped," she told him with a certain sort of air to her tone. Seriously, if word got around that Josh dumped her, they would think she wasn't fit to hang out with girls like the DSL Daters, who constantly had boys on their arms. "So don't even try it."

Josh blanched. "This all about a reputation?"

"My reputation, yes."

"You don't even _have_ reputation," he said slowly, "except, of course, you count Little Miss Goody Two Shoes."

She giggled at his idiocy. "That's not me, silly goose. That's Kristen."

"Really?" He raised his eyebrows. "Because last I checked, Kristen was the smart, sexy soccer player."

No kidding? Claire pursed her lips, contemplating this. Everyone at Briarwood - and probably OCD, too, if she thought about it - thought she was some girl who couldn't break the rules. Sure, she hadn't had a sip of alcohol before that small get-together in the basement, but that was because she had been rational. Getting in trouble with the police was not something she wanted to do. Even so, after she realized that alcohol was a lot of fun, she didn't want to do it as often as her new friends did. It wouldn't do her any good.

"That's completely off," she told him, giving him a stern nod. "I'm _rational_. There's a difference."

Her ex-boyfriend merely stared at her, a small albeit sheepish smile creeping on to his face. She gasped.

"Is your silence supposed to tell me that I'm wrong?"

"Rational and Goody Two Shoes go hand in hand, Claire." He went to grab her hand, but she slapped him away, biting down on her lip again. "You're still the one who doesn't know how to let loose and free herself from her thoughts. In fact," he paused, clearing his throat, "a lot of people think you're more uptight than Massie was last year."

_That_ was offensive. "Well, thanks for telling me how I'm perceived." Her tone was dry and forced because, really, how had she missed this?

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing," he replied quickly. His hand lifted to scratch at the back of his neck, a telltale sign he was uncomfortable with the situation. "It's good to have someone around these girls who has a level head on her shoulders. Refreshing, actually."

"Refreshing." She snorted. "Right. You're just trying to make it sound better than it is."

"No, I'm not. I wouldn't lie to you, Claire, even after everything that has happened between us."

Claire tried to ignore her thoughts - the Floridian version of herself was trying to tell her this was all a bad idea. She should try to beg him to take her back, to fix this. Her Westchester self was winning, however, just by reminding her that the girls she thought were her friends really weren't. Josh would stick with Massie no matter what she did.

Her main purpose had been to eliminate all of the unhealthy things in her life, right? Josh was the last on the list. If she could get rid of him and change up her image... well, there was no harm in that.

"It's time to reinvent myself," she said aloud, clasping her hands together. Her two rings, both hand me downs from Skye, clanged together rather loudly in the quiet that followed her statement.

She had never noticed that Josh's signature seemed to be confusion. Not that it wasn't a totally adorable look (he really rocked the frown, making him look like a sad puppy), but it was a little irritating. Did he not understand anything she was saying? It was an easy enough plan to follow!

With an over-exaggerated sigh, Claire placed her hand on his cheek. "This relationship was fun, Josh. Really. Thanks for proving my point that Alicia's body didn't get her everything she wanted." Sure, that wasn't why she dated him, but whatever.

"Wait a second, are you saying -"

"_Shhh_." She pressed her index finger to his lips. "Don't ask any more questions. I'm getting tired of answering them."

His cute puppy-dog-like confused face reappeared and he moved his mouth to speak again, only to get Claire's finger against him even more harshly.

"And remember to tell everyone _I _dumped you. It's time to say goodbye to Goody Two Shoes Claire." She let her hand drop to the side, rather pleased with her Massie-esque style of speaking. The brunette could probably do a lot better, but at least Claire tried. That had to count for something. Skye would be so proud to hear of this. But a breakup did not just erase her previous reputation. She needed to do something even better, something that told everyone that she was a new woman...

A lightbulb went off in her head, causing her to grin victoriously (and a little viciously). "Oh, and tell them I pushed you in the fountain."

"But you didn't push me in the -"

The loud splash followed her movements, along with a string of curses ranging in creativity. Grin transforming into a smirk, she turned on her heel and flipped her hair over her shoulder. She was _so_ not Florida Claire anymore.

* * *

><p>"And then she <em>pushed<em> you in the _fountain_?" Derrick asked, casually untying his mandatory Briarwood tie.

Josh nodded wordlessly, dressed in his soccer clothes, looking out of place amidst the uniformed boys (and four girls). He allowed Kristen to attempt to mop up the water in his hair, the dark locks currently sticking to his forehead. They would eventually dry into more of a curl than he liked, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

"Ugh," Massie snapped. "I'm so _sick_ of her. After everything she's done, I think I should go give her a piece of my mind right now -"

Alicia practically cheered, slipping out of her blazer and making to stand. "_Finally_. I've been waiting for this. She'll be crying in two seconds flat. Don't worry, Josh, I got you."

"Don't," he spoke up, grabbing both of their hands before they could even think of moving away from the table. "You don't need to do this."

"But we do," the Latina insisted, wiggling out of his grasp. His touch proved to her that she was completely over him, which was a good sign or else Claire would have ended up in an even worse state than anticipated. "You don't know what she's said about us. This is war, Joshua."

"Everyone is calling me Joshua lately," he whined, "but I really don't think this is the time." He widened his eyes at Massie, practically begging for her to sit and wait this out.

She sighed, running her free hand through her hair, and plopped back down in her seat next to Cam. Her boy toy threw his arm around her shoulder, whispering something in her ear. Alicia grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting herself back down next to her best friend. She was not pleased.

Derrick shot Massie a look, clearly miffed that Josh had that much of an effect on her, but she didn't seem to notice. Instead, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling as she thought over something no one knew of.

"This isn't _fair_," Alicia complained, stabbing her salad with a plastic fork. It snapped in half. "If you just _knew_ what she was saying about us..."

"What is she saying?" Plovert questioned.

"Well, first of all, she said that I think boys _have to_ like me because of my body. FYI, I don't even _want _all this." She gestured to her chest wildly, frowning.

"And she said I'm a total bitch because I'm insecure. I mean, that's a given, but thanks for telling Skye Hamilton that, who will now know all of my insecurities and use them against me." Massie blinked, focusing herself back into the reality of the lunch cafeteria.

Kemp rolled his eyes, chewing on his fries. "Why does it matter?" she asked, mouth full. "She's just a stupid girl."

"A stupid girl who hates us," Kristen pointed out, dropping her napkin from Josh's head. "That's the best I could do, babe."

He shrugged, shaking his still damp hair out, misting everyone in the process. "Thanks for the effort."

"School's almost over anyway," she told him. "You'll be able to go home before you know it."

Josh merely sighed.

"What did she say about Kris and Dylan?" Cam questioned, looking over at the sporty blonde.

"Oh, you know, the usual," the former replied, noticing the redhead's silence. "I'm a know-it-all, blah, blah, blah. Nothing I haven't heard before."

"That's still not cool," Cam informed her. "I thought you guys were friends."

Kristen pursed her lips. "We thought so too. Until, y'know, we weren't."

"What about you, Dyl?" Kemp looked over at her, raising his eyebrows. "What's the dirt she's got on you?"

The redhead looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Her green eyes were huge as she gazed at him, the food on her plate strategically moved around as if she had eaten it even though she hadn't. She was getting better and better at hiding her eating habits. "Uh, nothing important."

He reached over the table, placing his hand over hers. She flinched, but didn't move, unsure of what to do. Everyone was staring at her. The girls would make a lie about her 'dirt' if she so wished, but she didn't want to have to follow through with one. "If you believe it, I'm going to have to smack you upside the head."

"Yeah." Derrick bobbed in agreement, now unbuttoning the top two buttons of his crisp long-sleeved shirt. Massie watched him do so, gaze following his fingers as his chest became partially exposed. He grinned briefly at her before speaking up again: "I don't think Kristen's a know-it-all or that Massie is a bitch because she's insecure or that Alicia thinks she deserves attention. Kris is just smart and Mass is just a bitch for no reason" - she tossed a napkin at his face - "and Leesh has a nice rack, yeah, but she's not throwing it in everyone's faces."

"I wish she _would_," Kemp groaned.

"Wow, thanks, guys," the girl in question replied sarcastically. "But I believe we were talking about Dylan, not me."

"Right." Kemp perked up again, squeezing her hand which was still beneath his. "It's not true, whatever it is."

Dylan sucked in her cheeks, blowing out her breath slowly. "She basically told Skye that I have body image problems, which I know I do, but she said that she thinks I'm fat and that everyone is going to think that because I embrace it."

The table was overcome with silence.

Until Josh decided to break it.

"You aren't fat. That's crazy talk. Look at you."

She shrugged, glancing down helplessly at her thighs (which were too big for her liking).

"She's probably just jealous," Cam added after getting a _say something_ look from Josh. "I mean, you have really awesome hair and a great personality to boot. Don't let her bring you down."

Plovert nodded. "I hope you haven't been taking that to heart. I haven't seen you eat in a few days."

"Oh, I..." She swallowed. "I'm not. I don't have a problem with how I look, not after the whole pig thing." Plovert and Kemp looked guilty, but she forced a smile to prove to them that it was no biggie, even though it really was. "I just haven't really been hungry lately."

"I'm still really sorry - _we're_ still really sorry," Kemp murmured. "If we had known what it was going to do to you..."

Dylan shook her head quickly, accidentally hitting Derrick in the face with her curls. "Don't apologize again. I know you didn't mean it."

"Dylan, if it's bothering you more than you're letting on, please don't keep it from us." Alicia placed her hand on her shoulder, making a sympathetic face. "I don't want anything to happen to you because people suck."

"I'll eat if it'll make you feel better," she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her tone. "It's just... this chicken is awful."

"For what it's worth, it _is_ the worst meal they make here," agreed Josh.

Alicia ignored him. "Please. I won't bother you again."

Dylan sighed, cutting her meat with the side of her fork and bringing the piece to her lips. With everyone's eyes still on her, she popped it into her mouth, chewing and swallowing. "Happy?" she asked.

"Very much so." The Latina beamed, turning her attention back to the group as a whole. "Now that Dylan's still hot as hell even after she ate, when are we going after Claire? She needs to know her place."

"After school?" Kristen suggested.

"You have soccer after school," Cam reminded her. "Little Miss Only Girl on the Team."

Her cheeks reddened adorably. "Oh. I forgot about that."

While they were all talking with each other and no longer on Dylan's case, the redhead lifted her napkin and spit her chewed-up chicken into it, happy she hid it under her tongue. It _was_ gross, but she didn't want to eat anything.

"If you played half as well as you tried out, I'd say we're good to go," Derrick informed her. "Oh - and by the way, I got an A on the most recent chemistry test we got back."

Kristen clapped her hands together in delight. "I _told_ you you could do it!"

"Yeah, well," he scratched the back of his neck, "I wouldn't have been able to without you."

Massie scrutinized their conversation with narrowed eyes. "Uh." She cleared her throat, grabbing everyone's attention again. "If we can't do it after school, we can do it after Kris' practice?"

"I don't have to be there," the blonde insisted. "I don't want you to have to wait for me."

Dylan looked up. "I also don't want to be there," she admitted. "Sorry."

Alicia shrugged, looking over at Massie. "After school then?"

"Sure. I do want to speak to her after the whole Josh thing."

"It's really no big deal," Josh moaned. "It was quite refreshing actually. Like taking a nice swim on a hot day."

Plovert slapped his shoulder. "You're such an idiot. She dumped you and pushed you in a fountain. That's abuse."

"Whatever," he muttered. "Don't spend so much time on me, okay? Yell at her for other things."

"Or don't even yell at her - try to talk it out civilly," Cam suggested.

Alicia looked appalled at the thought. "Are you kidding? I want to make her _cry_, Cam!"

"That's not -"

"I. Want. To make. Her cry."

"Alicia, is that necessary?" Derrick asked, giving her one of his patented _think before you act _looks.

"You too?" she snapped. "I thought you would be on _my _side. Some best friend you are."

Derrick shook his head. "I'm just saying... are tears really going to do anything for your case? Isn't that going to prove Skye's point or something?"

Alicia's nose flared. "I am going to make her cry and that is final, Derrick Harrington. Nothing you say can change my mind so zip it."

"I'm just looking out for you, that's all."

"I know." She did a complete three-sixty, smiling at him. "That's why I love you."

He placed a hand over his heart with a dramatic sort of air. "You love me when you're sober too?"

With a snort, she shoved his shoulder, giggling when he almost toppled out of his seat. "Shut up."

* * *

><p>So far, soccer practice with Kristen as part of the Tomahawks was going along great. Considering she used to play with them so many times last year, she really fit in well with Kemp, Cam, Josh, and Derrick. It was with the others that she had a little difficulty, mainly because they were weary about her acceptance. It was one thing to come to their school, but to get to be on the soccer team too? They were a little miffed.<p>

Hopefully they wouldn't do anything if she was with one of her friends the entire time. Josh had promised Massie he'd look out for her. As did the rest of them.

And speaking of Massie...

Just as he was about to shoot into Derrick's goal, he stopped, practically shouting, "Dude, what's up with you and Massie?"

Derrick immediately focused on him rather than the ball, furrowing his eyebrows. "What about Block?"

"The dog walking thing," Josh told him. "How you go from Olivia's to her house?"

The goalie swallowed. "It's dark out. You don't know what could happen."

"So, you're not just trying to weasel your way into her life again?"

"I understand that you're friends with her and everything, but I'm not trying to hurt her or whatever. I'd never do that."

Josh licked his lips. "You already have, man."

"Listen," Derrick began, rubbing his forehead. His hair started to stick up due to sweat. "I know I did a really shitty thing to her but that doesn't change how I feel about her. I know I don't deserve to feel this way since I broke her heart but I can't stop it."

"_DERRICK! HOTZ!_" Coach Harrington shouted from the sidelines. "WE WON'T WIN ANY GAMES IF YOU'RE GOING TO STAND THERE AND GOSSIP THE ENTIRE TIME!"

Josh flung his leg back and kicked, shooting the ball right into the right. As usual, Derrick predicted where it would end up, caught it swiftly, and - instead of throwing it back - jogged over to Josh in order to return it.

"She's not right with Cam," he told him, dropping the black-and-white sphere by his cleats. "I have to get rid of him."

"You two are _best_ friends!"

"Were," Derrick corrected, breathing deeply. It was hot for the end of September. He really couldn't wait for October to roll around; autumn was very much needed. Cooler weather. Change. All that good stuff. "We _were _best friends."

The Italian boy - most mistook him for Spanish because he was tanner than most - sighed. "Can't the both of you just stop this? You're acting as if you're forgetting that these relationships are Massie's decision too."

"I'm not doing anything," Derrick defended, sparing a glance at the sidelines where his father stood. Josh followed his gaze, a wave of relief (and slight nausea) flooding over him. Coach Harrington was too preoccupied with the JV guys, helping them figure out how to take care of their kids, who seemed to be misbehaving. Thank _God_. It was too hot for this. "There's nothing in the Guy Code that says I can't talk to a friend's girlfriend."

"You just said not even ten seconds ago that you weren't friends with him..."

Derrick tutted. "I said I wasn't _best_ friends with him. I never said we weren't friends at all."

Josh blinked, more than confused now. It seemed as if Derrick was only playing games with him here. Or maybe, just maybe, he didn't know what was going on either. "Uh, okay, but didn't you say the Guy Code states that ex-girlfriends are off-limits? Wouldn't that also apply to current girlfr -"

"It would, but considering he ignored the first and most crucial rule of all, the rest of it goes null and void."

"Meaning?"

"Anything is free game."

"I don't like the sound of that," Josh admitted to him, squinting his eyes in the too-bright sun.

Derrick shrugged. "That's what happens when you ignore the laws laid out for you by your forefathers."

"George Washington created the Guy Code?"

"Yeah, are you kidding me? You didn't know that?" Derrick shook his head, throwing himself on the ground. It didn't look like their coach was planning on returning to _their_ practice anytime soon. "While the whole American Revolution and Declaration of Independence thing was going on, this was established. There had to be some hot pieces of tail back then too."

Josh felt his jaw drop. He probably looked completely idiotic right now, but seriously, what the _fuck_ was Derrick talking about? And did he just call women in the seventeen hundreds "hot pieces of tail"? That was offensive no matter what century you were in!

The blonde grinned brightly, taking the soccer ball by his knees and tossing it into Josh's chest. "I was _kidding_, man. No need to look like a fish out of water."

Getting himself comfortable again, Josh let the ball roll back on to the grass. "You're an idiot, did you know that?"

"I've been told once or twice."

"But seriously, I don't like that this is going on. It's not fair to Massie in the slightest, the way you two are acting. She doesn't even know you guys aren't close anymore."

"We would be if Cam hadn't taken her from me."

"She was never yours to begin with," Josh pointed out, hoping Derrick wouldn't get angry or something.

"Technically." Derrick ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly like he did every time his fingers even so much as grazed his blonde locks. "But I still liked her. He knew that. It's one thing to both like her, but he never expressed any interest in her until they hooked up that night."

Josh watched the clouds go by, leaning back on his shoulders. "They were drunk," he reminded him. "Shit happens when you're drunk."

Like sometimes, you kiss that asshole Keith...and sometimes you like it.

That was still his fucking life story.

"Shit should happen to _me_ when I'm drunk," Derrick grumbled. "I'm always the one getting the short end of the stick here."

"Well, maybe if you let things run their course," suggested Josh, noticing that one cloud combination looked like a rabbit riding a tricycle, "they would. If you try to mess them up, nothing is going to work out in your favor. I think we've all learned that."

"I'm not trying to mess anything up," his friend told him. "Literally, I'm not doing _anything_."

Josh shot him a look.

"Okay, sometimes I play at obvious things, but I'm allowed to do that. I'm not, like... you should see the way she looks at me, Josh."

"I've seen."

"And - come _on_, you wouldn't do little things for extra attention?" Derrick tilted his head to look at him, cocking an eyebrow. "Sometimes, I catch her staring at me like she wants to fucking jump my bones and I forget that she's dating - I don't even fucking know - Fisher over there."

All Josh could do was hum in response. Until he remembered one major part of the equation. "And what is Olivia?"

"Nothing," Derrick replied instantly. "Physical stuff. Gives me advice. That's it."

"That's not fair to her either."

"She agreed to it."

Josh let out a deep breath, closing his eyes. He could just fall asleep right here... "People develop feelings all the time, Derrick, regardless of agreements," he said, voice softer than previously.

"Olivia won't," Derrick promised.

"I hope you're right," Josh murmured. "You wouldn't want to have that situation on your hands."

Derrick didn't answer after that, probably because he was too busy wondering if Olivia really was in fact developing any semblance of feelings for him. Or maybe he wasn't. Josh really didn't know. He was, though, appreciating the silence. He was so tired; today had been an awful day what with his getting dumped and shoved in a fountain.

And while he was lying there, he realized the weather wasn't _that_ bad. The sun hit his skin nicely and a breeze had finally decided to pick up. The field's grass was comfortable and cool beneath him. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost see himself in his backyard, on his hammock.

But as soon as it started to seem real, a loud whistle pierced the air, disrupting his peaceful relaxation time.

"WHO TOLD YOU YOU COULD TAKE A BREAK?"

"Derrick?"

"Mmm?"

"I hate the sound of your father's voice."

Movement. A sigh. "You're not the only one."

"Think if we stay in this position, we can pretend he's not yelling at us?"

"WE'RE NOT GOING TO WIN ANY GAMES IF THIS IS YOUR ATTITUDE FOR THE SEASON, LADIES!"

"Yeah, I don't think we'll be able to tune him out."

"DERRICK, STEP AWAY FROM YOUR LOVEFEST WITH HOTZ AND GET YOUR ASS IN THE NET! DO NOT _MAKE ME_ KEEP YOU LATER THAN NECESSARY!"

"Definitely not."

* * *

><p>Massie had never thought finding Claire Lyons would be harder than it seemed. How difficult would it be to place a girl who had practically no friends thanks to her actions? Well, the answer was very.<p>

After the final bell rang, the brunette had gone directly to her locker, like she always did. She spent the same amount of time there, fixing her hair, which was in an elaborate braid she figured out how to do the night before, and reapplying her lip gloss. When she got to Alicia's, everyone was still milling about the halls, chatting and dawdling on their way to sports practices or extra helps.

Alicia shoved her books in her Vera Bradley tote, blew herself a kiss in her small mirror, and turned to begin their hunt. They were silent together as they traipsed to where they hoped the blonde would be. After all, school ended ten minutes ago. Where else would she be?

It wasn't until they couldn't find her at her own locker that Alicia spoke up. "Do you think Derrick is right?"

"He's rarely right, so no." Massie stood on her tiptoes, looking over the tall heads of these boys. Even in four inch heels, she was still shorter than half of these kids.

"I'm serious," Alicia sighed. "Is crying going to do anything? Should I not bother?"

"It's whatever you want to do, but we are going to talk to her."

"If we _find_ her," the Latina mumbled. "Where is she?"

Massie shrugged. "Not inside. Maybe outside. Let's check."

Together, the two girls managed to slip into the front, where even more students mingled about. How many people attended Briarwood? Massie honestly never saw these people before in her life. Massie searched the area, wondering where on Earth this girl could be.

"Is that her?" Alicia asked, craning her neck. "Over by the fountain?"

The other girl averted her gaze to the very spot, feeling her blood boil at the fact she was sitting where she had pushed Josh, almost as if she were there to milk it in. "Yep. That's her."

Alicia heaved her bag as it fell down. "Let's go."

It took them less than five minutes to get Claire. She didn't notice their presences, even when their shadows fell over her. She was too busy texting on her phone. Her fingers flew across the keys, most likely talking to Skye - because who else wanted to?

Crossing her arms and tapping her foot, Massie let Alicia do the clearing of the throat, alerting Claire that she had some visitors.

The blonde looked up, frowning ever so slightly. "Hello."

"Hey," Massie greeted. "What's up?"

"Just waiting for Skye to come pick me up..." Claire replied slowly. "You?"

"I don't know about Massie, but I'm here to make you cry," Alicia stated bluntly, finger-combing her long waves without a care in the world. "Why are you here, Mass?"

The brunette sat herself down with the grace of a ballerina next to her ex-friend, stretching her long legs out before her. "I'm here to discuss some things, but with all due respect, Alicia please start."

Alicia looked positively giddy.

Claire, on the other hand, did not. "What makes you think you can make me cry?"

"Because you're a pathetic, conniving, good-for-nothing slut."

"Those sound like fighting words."

"Oh, I forgot to mention how _smart _you are," Alicia mocked, dropping her bag by the fountain's edge. "Because, by golly, you're a real Einstein!"

"As much as I love your witty banter, I'm going to have to ask why you feel the need to insult me to tears."

Alicia faltered just enough for Massie to notice, her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. "You've said some pretty nasty things about us," she returned, coming back from her slight stop. "And I'm here to show you that everything you say in Westchester has consequences."

"I don't recall saying anything that wasn't true, so..."

"Well, I'll jog your memory, yeah?" Alicia sat on the other side of her, smiling serenely. If Massie had not known her for so long, she would have thought she were actually being nice. "Let's see... you told Skye Hamilton that Massie was a bitch because she was insecure, that Dylan was fat, Kristen was a know-it-all, and that I thought I deserved attention from boys because of my body."

Claire quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"And? That's so not true."

The blonde giggled. "You don't _think_ it's true, but it is." She fixed her gaze on Alicia, looking less and less like the girl they used to know. "You four are so self-absorbed you don't realize the way you come off to others. It's sad, really."

"Do you really think you're going to be able to insult us _that _much? We don't care what you think about us."

"Then why are you here?" questioned Claire, focusing her attention back on her phone.

Alicia shared a glance with Massie. "Because even though we don't care, that doesn't give you the right to talk shit about us because you're mad."

"I'm only being honest with your _adoring_ public." The sarcasm was dripping from Claire's every word.

"No, you're playing right into Skye's plan," Massie told her, surveying her ex-friend. The way she held herself was so un-Claireish, like she wanted all the boys to look at her and see something they liked. Honestly, they probably wouldn't, but it was such a difference from the old, conservative girl that it left Massie reeling. "She's only using you, I hope you know that."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Like I'd believe you."

"Don't say we didn't warn you." Massie stood up from her seat, fluffed her hair, and looked back at the girls below her. One was her best friend for life, the other... one girl who she thought she knew, but really didn't. "Come on, Leesh. Let's hit the mall. I'm so over this."

Alicia gaped at her. "Wait, I've waited all day for this...just to leave after five minutes?"

"Josh and Derrick were right. There's no point in doing it." Massie pursed her lips, lifting her bag up off the ground. "It's only going to make us look worse. Seeing Claire in person made me realize it. But if I ever hear of you pushing my best friend in the fountain again, I will _end_ you."

"Whatever." Alicia sighed. "I'm only doing this because of a promise I made earlier in the day," she told Claire, allowing her long legs to pick her up from the side of the stone edge. "But believe me, I will not be happy until you're in tears over something I said to you."

The blonde only looked up at her, not even fazed by her so-called threat. Massie, again, wondered what happened to her. "Like you'd make me cry."

"I've done it before." Alicia threw her hair over her shoulder haughtily, leaning forward ever so slightly so her nose was mere inches away from the other's. "And I'll do it again."

"I'm not scared of you."

"You should be."


	28. twenty seven

I am so sorry this took seven years to get out to you guys. And I didn't really edit it much cuz I suck and didn't want to keep this from you any longer. Next chapter is the time switch!

Oh, and if any of you have read the intro to my new story, check it out again- I added two other characters I didn't realize I left out :)

* * *

><p>As much as Josh loved his friends, he didn't- and that was mainly because they wouldn't leave him alone. Of course, by 'they' he meant Kemp. Now, don't get him wrong; Kemp was a great guy, really, but he took his position as bodyguard too seriously. Honestly, Josh didn't think he needed it anymore.<p>

Two weeks had passed since the initial encounter and in that span of fourteen days, nothing unusual or out of the ordinary had occurred to make Josh feel uncomfortable or threatened. James and his cronies probably forgot all about their little stunt and found something else to occupy their time with. Josh was old news.

Except… telling Kemp that was not going to go over well.

Like he said earlier, Kemp was overprotective and completely absorbed in his task. No one could look at Josh twice without him noticing and half the time, he was certain most of Briarwood thought Kemp and Josh were, like, a thing or something. No one spent _that_ much time together without eliciting a few rumors.

He could have sworn Danny Robbins and Landon Crane were mocking them yesterday when-

"_Boo!_"

Josh yelped, jumping what felt like six feet in the air. "_Dude_, that wasn't _funny_-"

Kemp cackled, leaning up against the row of burgundy lockers. "You should have seen your face, man."

"I'm sure it was hilarious, but, like… what are you doing here?"

"Um." Kemp frowned. "To keep you from harm, make sure you don't get injured on the way to class… Did you hit your head and forget or something?"

"No," Josh swallowed, twisting the combination- 11, 23, 4- in his lock. "I just don't think you need to do all that anymore. Nothing's happened in a really long time."

"Last I checked Ridder was sending you texts that made you extremely uncomfortable."

"That was last week. It's Thursday and…"

Kemp shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. "And?"

Josh took a deep breath. "It's Tuesday and…" Why was it so hard to say this? His head was telling him one thing (that it was entirely stupid for Kemp to still be around when nothing was bothering him) but the rest of him was a contradicting mess. Still, he pushed his insecurities- was he really _still_ worried about this?- to the side and pressed on. "I haven't seen or heard from James, Owen, or Keith."

"That doesn't mean we're in the clear."

"_We're?_" Josh reiterated. "This whole… I think I might be _gay_ thing has nothing to do with _you_." He coughed, clearing his throat and feeling his entire face heat up as Kemp looked on at him with what almost equated to distaste. Was he _mad?_ "I'm the one it's affecting and I don't want you to be wrapped up in it-"

His friend's face distorted as he snorted in amusement. "I'm not wrapped up in anything I don't want to be wrapped up in. I know I'm not good at expressing my feelings, but I care a lot about you, D, Plov, and, y'know, even Cammie, despite the fact that he's hardly around."

Josh felt as if he were falling into a deep pit. There was this pulling sensation in the pit of his stomach that made him vaguely want to vomit. "Eventually people are going to think-"

"I've told you this time and time again." Kemp rolled his eyes. "I don't care what people think of me. No one deserves to be tortured like this, okay? I'd make sure… say, Dylan was kept from this, even though I may not exactly like her."

"You and Dylan are _friends_."

"Hardly."

"Still." Josh sighed. "You two are friendly. You know each other. I highly doubt you would go after a complete stranger in this case scenario."

Kemp quirked an eyebrow almost as if he were challenging him. "How do you know?"

"I don't," the Italian replied quickly, "I'm just stating what I think."

"Well, I think you're _wrong_-"

Josh opened his mouth to retort; all he wanted to do was keep Kemp out of this, to make sure he didn't get judged for the things _he_ did. What part of that didn't he understand? He was just looking out for him!

When he finally thought of something to say- it wasn't exactly a _good_ comeback; Massie would be disappointed- it wasn't his voice that spoke up.

"Are you two sharing a romantic moment by your lockers?"

If this comment had come from anyone other than Derrick, Josh would have frozen up, acting like a fish out of water. For some reason, the blond soccer player could turn even the most judgmental things into teasing dialogue.

Kemp, though, didn't feel the same way. His glare spoke volumes about his current mood.

"Ohhhhh-kay," Derrick muttered. "Tough crowd this morning. Listen, Hotz, are you getting to English? We've got two minutes before the bell rings."

Josh nodded. "I just need to get my stuff. I'm sure Golding won't mind if we're late. She's practically in love with you."

Derrick shrugged his shoulders lightly, hiking his backpack back upon them. "Truer words have never been spoken."

"Right. So let me…" Josh turned away from the two of them, more than thrilled that Derrick had sought him out. Kemp would leave him alone if he was with someone else, right? He tugged his locker open, about to make a quick grab for books when a sea of folded papers- literally a _sea_- fell to the ground, practically taking his eye out with the pointed edges.

He could feel Kemp's _I told you so_ stare without having to look at him. He felt awful for even thinking he was in the clear. Actually, he just felt miserable in general.

"Do you have a secret admirer or something?" questioned Derrick, bending down. "Is Claire trying to win you back? Because I don't think love letters are going to work out for her pushing you in a fount-"

"_No!_" Kemp almost shrieked, clawing at Derrick's hands. "_Don't_- just give me them."

"I… uh-"

"Seriously," the taller of the trio all but growled. "Give. Me. Them."

The bell rang overhead but neither of them moved. The last of the dawdlers scurried to their classes, clearing the halls in about three seconds. While everything else went on around them, time seemed to stop for Derrick, Josh, and Kemp. The former was still holding the papers he plucked off the ground whilst the latter tried to rip them from his grasp. Josh, on the other hand, merely slammed his head against his closed locker.

In one solid motion, he went to slam his forehead against the wall, only to have Kemp's palm shoved between him and the metal.

"You're kind of clammy," was all his friend said.

"Fantastic."

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Derrick demanded, the papers crumpling in his hand.

Kemp barely glanced at him, staring directly at Josh. "Just give me those and get to class, man."

"Don't treat me like I'm five!"

"Go to class," Kemp ordered, this time settling his dark-eyed gaze on one of his best friends. "I'll deal with this."

Derrick frowned deeply. "You don't have to be a fucking hero," he spat. "Whatever _this_ is"- he waved his hands around the three of them- "is obviously bothering him. I don't care if you don't want me to know- you can _tell _me that and I'll leave- but I don't appreciate being talked to as if you're better than me."

"Yeah, well, you're acting like a toddler and I don't want to have to deal with the both of you." Kemp focused his attention back on Josh, noticing just how pale his face was starting to get. Was he getting sick?

Josh shut his eyes. "I told you. You don't have to _deal_ with-"

"That's not what I meant," Kemp defended rapidly. "I was just trying to-"

"Why are you _dealing _with Josh?" Derrick crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

Kemp took a deep breath. "Get to class, Harrington."

"I'm already late. There's no point."

"_Get to_-"

"No," Josh muttered, sighing shakily. "He can know. I don't care."

The dark-haired boy widened his eyes a fraction of an inch. "Are you sure? You don't have to do anything you don't want to…"

"Yes."

"No, seriously. I don't want you to feel like you _have_ to."

Josh ignored him. "Go ahead, Derrick. Read one of them. Knock yourself out."

The blond hesitated for a moment before slowly unfolding one of the numerous letters in his hands. He shared a meaningful look with Kemp, ducking his head and taking in the small print on the lined sheets.

Josh slumped against the lockers, feeling his heart pound harshly in his chest. He knew exactly what these said- everything he was trying to convince Kemp didn't exist. He wouldn't leave him alone after this now. Josh was still a target.

Great.

"I don't…"

"Do they say what they think they say?"

Derrick swallowed, wordlessly shoving the notes in Kemp's hands. "I don't… I don't understand what's… what's going on?"

Kemp cursed loudly, tossing the paper into the trashcan beside him. As hard as he tried, he couldn't get rid of the evidence fast enough, and Josh saw the words _faggot_ and _dyke _in a boys' scrawl before they disappeared entirely.

And, boy, did that make him feel oh-so special inside.

"Why are people calling you that?"

Josh met Derrick's confused gaze and before he could even think twice, he spilled his entire sob story to his friend, mumbling and making sure to look everywhere but at him. Derrick remained as silent as possible; not once did he make a condescending joke or smirk. That eased Josh's worries just a tad, knowing that the blond was not going to tease him mercilessly.

Kemp was sitting on the ground, ripping apart the comments Ridder and his friends wrote about Josh.

When he finally finished speaking, there was an awkward silence between the three of them. It killed him inside to know his friends didn't know what to do with him, that Kemp thought he had to _deal_ with him and obviously Derrick would want nothing to do with-

"You thought we would judge you?" the surprisingly small voice of Derrick inquired.

Josh snapped his head up, making an affirmative sound in the back of his throat.

"That's… that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, man," he murmured in response. "Just because you're… or you _think_ you are doesn't mean we'd think any less of you."

"_Told you_," Kemp muttered, scoffing at what looked like James' handwriting.

Derrick continued: "I don't care if you're interested in guys. Not only does that give me more girls to choose from-"

"-not like you would," Kemp snickered.

The blond stopped to kick at his bent form, grinning slightly at the pained noise he let out afterwards. "-but that doesn't change who you are as a person. Yeah, it'll take some getting used to, but… you know, you're still the same Josh we became friends with last year. And if people like James Ridder don't like you for it, well… fuck 'em."

Josh felt his cheeks heat up. He wasn't as embarrassed as he was touched. Out of everyone, he pegged Derrick for the homophobic type. He just didn't seem like the kind of guy to like things out of the ordinary, but maybe- just maybe- Josh had been wrong about him.

"As much as I hate to say I told you so," Kemp began, pushing himself up off the floor. "I think they were just waiting for the right time to pounce or something like that."

Derrick nodded in agreement. "Lying in the bushes."

Kemp frowned, not quite catching on.

"Oh. Um." Derrick ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "It's a phrase I've heard Bloc- Massie- use when she wanted to attack something, you know? Like to lure them into a false sense of security and pounce when they weren't expecting it?"

Still, Kemp (and now Josh, who was confused as hell) stared at him with this blank expression on his face.

Derrick sighed loudly. "Okay, Blo- _Massie, goddammit_- does this thing when-"

Kemp grinned. "You still call her Block, huh?"

"Once or twice or a thousand times a day," Josh replied, chuckling.

"I do _not_," Derrick muttered, kicking the wall with his scuffed up sneaker. "I just remembered what she did and applied it to our current situation. I was _helping_. If you don't want me to help, I'll keep my mouth shut next time and I'll-"

Josh shook his head, feeling better that the conversation was off him and on Derrick's very obvious infatuation with Massie Block. "Alright, lover boy, let's get to English. I'm sure Golding misses your beautiful face."

"Are you hitting on me?"

He cackled. "Sorry, D. You're not my type."

Derrick gaped. "I'm _everybody's_ type!"

Josh shrugged, picking up speed. "You're too much of a dick for my taste."

The goalie blinked, trying to catch up with his quick pace. "I thought you were into that sort of thing!"

* * *

><p>Alicia leaned her head against her palm, sighing as vice principal Morgan's loud, obnoxious voice filled the semi-quiet World History classroom. Her big brown eyes fell to the desk, taking in her sparkly pink notebook.<p>

"-today's lunch menu is all-beef burgers with sweet potato fries. As per usual, salads of all sorts are up for grabs, thanks to a fresh selection of fruits and vegetables-"

_No one cares about the food_, she thought bitterly, wishing she were back at OCD. If she were there, she would be the one speaking over the loudspeaker; she wouldn't have to listen to this. At least she was _good_ at this. The vice principal was not.

"-OCD's Drama Board has decided on its annual fall musical, picking _A Chorus Line_. Auditions for the male roles will be next week; please go grab sheet music and lines from Mr. Turner in the music wing before the end of next Tuesday-"

Alicia stifled an eye roll, for the first time wanting class to start. This was actually torturous. Her entire body felt pained just by sitting there.

VP Morgan continued on, and Alicia tuned her out, consumed in her own thoughts. When she had first been told she would be attending Briarwood, she was thrilled. Ecstatic. This meant nothing more than a place to scout out the most eligible boys to date since Josh didn't want her. But as she got more comfortable and used to the school, all that changed.

Boy-crazy Alicia Rivera was actually dying to go back to her previous all-girls school. Shocking, she knew, but it would be better than going through every day in fear of the degrading comments she constantly received.

If she hadn't gotten expelled, she wouldn't have been in the situation to be called a 'whore' and 'slut' on the daily. It would be so much better than-

Her attention, and the rest of the class's, was diverted when the door swung open, revealing a very disheveled Cam, his tie hardly done up and hair a mess from the torrential downpour outside.

Their teacher made a face at him, but silently checked up as _present_ on the attendance sheet.

Alicia watched him stride through the classroom, zigzagging through the mess of desks to his own, the one coincidentally right next to hers. He winked his blue eye as he sat, dropping his bag to the ground before focusing his attention on his messy tie.

After what felt like six minutes of him being unable to knot it correctly, Alicia sighed, pushing her hair out of her face and uncrossing her legs. "You are a disgrace to mankind. Let me."

"_Disgrace_?" he muttered in response. Still, he dropped his hands and allowed her to swiftly mark him as a Briarwood student, his blue tie looking starch and proper against his crisp blazer. "And you don't have a brother?"

"Nope," she replied. "Daddy taught me how to. Said it's very important to know how to."

Cam shrugged. "Came in handy."

"I'm glad to be of service," she responded, a teasing lilt to her voice. "But on to more important matters: why were you late?"

"Just woke up," he admitted, patting down his slightly frizzing mess of hair. "My alarm didn't go off. Of course this happens the one day both my parents left for work at five."

Alicia forced her lips into a sympathetic pout, even though she never experienced that pain before. She had three alarms set for fifteen minute intervals starting at five-fifty and ending around six forty-five. Her maid, Joyce, reminded her to wake up if the second alarm didn't get her up and in the shower in time and placed a cup of tea on her nightstand before she emerged.

"Sucks," was all she could think of saying. "Welcome to social studies, though. We're going to learn about the effects of World War II on countries other than the one we live in."

"You were paying attention?"

"No." She giggled. "It's written on the board."

"Oh." Cam snorted, tossing his damp notebook on his desk. "Good to know you can read."

"Yep. Who would have thought?"

Cam side-grinned at her, vaguely pretending to listen to the teacher's voice. "Not me, that's for sure."

"Did you think I was just a pretty face or something?"

"Honestly, yeah."

"Hey, I have a three point four GPA. Thanks to Kristen and all, but I'm smart too. I'm like a-"

"As much as I _love_ gossip," their teacher interrupted her mid-sentence, loud voice booming. "I don't. Miss Rivera, Mister Fisher, if you would so _kindly_ silence yourselves. I've got a class to run."

Alicia mumbled an apology, not used to this sort of treatment. At OCD, she was allowed to do whatever it was she wanted. The Riveras supplied the principals and school board with enough money to let her get away with murder inside their hallowed halls.

Cam, on the other hand, just shrugged impolitely, slumping in his seat. The special treatment he and the other boys got was unfair. Just because they were on the soccer team didn't mean _anything_.

"What I'm sending back to you all is a slip of paper. Upon this is the ballot for the student council. You are to choose who you think is suitable for the position and return it anonymously back to me. Please remember this is not a popularity contest."

There was a small onslaught of laughter because, really, everything about Westchester was a contest, even if it were something like this. And believe it if you will, student council at elite schools like Briarwood was a big deal. It basically meant you were set for the rest of your high school career. Colleges ate this stuff up.

The boy in front of her- Blake? Brian?- shoved the ballot in her smooth hands, barely looking at her. The small glimpse she caught of him made her feel very self-conscious; he was practically grimacing by being so close to her.

When did boys start to hate "easy" girls? Didn't they like that?

Not that she was easy. She just didn't understand the reaction she was getting.

"Thanks," she whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. He didn't respond.

Ignoring the knot forming in the pit of her stomach, she skimmed the list.

_President: _

_Devon Craig  
>Harrison Eagen<br>Jeffery Montgomery  
>Christopher Plovert<br>John Zee_

Oh.

She didn't know any of these names, just Chris'. Obviously she would pick him despite the fact he was the only name on the list she knew. Out of everyone, he deserved this the most. After all, he spent most of his free time working for the student council as the freshmen treasurer. Everyone loved him.

With a flick of her wrist, she circled his name, frowning at the blurb of new ones she couldn't place faces to.

"Who's Gregory Timmiths?"

Cam groaned. "What's he running for?"

"Uh… secretary. Do we not like him?"

"Total suck-up. Next."

Alicia crossed the two words off in blue ink. "Kevin Islip?"

"Punched Derrick in the face in the eighth grade. No thanks."

"_Derrick _got punched in the face? Why?"

Cam shook his head. "Long story. I don't really want to go into it. Don't worry, Derrick got him back pretty nicely."

"Okay." She did the exact same thing to his name as she did Gregory's. "Um, Harper Coin?"

"Pass."

"Jude Franco?"

"He's fine. Vote for him."

Alicia knew it was a little biased, but she knew none of these kids. Not like it meant much for her vote in the long run, she wanted to be able to contribute, to feel like a part of this community. She probably never would be, but… it wouldn't hurt to try.

"Alright, um- Owen Craw-"

"_No_," Cam hissed uncharacteristically. Normally he was the nice one. She had never seen him actually… well, angry. "We don't like him. Ever. At all. Don't even think about voting for him."

The Latina bristled as if she were the one he hated. Still, she followed what he said to a _t_, starting to pick random names out of thin air. She didn't know these people and Cam seemed a little preoccupied himself…

When she was finished, she politely tapped Brad-Brian on his shoulder, thanking him for taking her sheet, and sighed deeply when he said _you're welcome, slut_.

Unfortunately, it was loud enough for Cam to hear as well.

"Do you have a problem, Brian?"

The semi-ginger turned slightly to glare at Cam, shoving his vote and Alicia's to the guy in front of him. "What is with your entire group defending her?"

"Well, last time I checked we were _friends_ and that's what friends do…"

"I'm sure friends really want to defend people like her." Brian scoffed, facing the front again.

Cam became uncharacteristically angry again, confusing Alicia completely. They weren't even that close. Sure, it would make sense if Derrick had this reaction since they talked almost every day, but Cam? The last interaction they had alone was last year when she tried to kiss him (and succeeded) in front of Claire.

"And what kind of person is she? Can you elaborate?"

"She's a sl-"

Alicia felt her face pale and she practically shrank into herself, smaller than everyone else around her. Everything around her- every word, mumble, chuckle- was like inaudible noise to her. Cam said something, so did Brian. Someone laughed. Everyone was looking at her.

And the next thing she knew, the bile was forcing itself up her throat.

She didn't have time to get anywhere, not the trashcan or the bathroom, and found, two minutes later, Brian's back covered in the vomit of her humiliation.

* * *

><p>"I can't go in the <em>boys<em>' bathroom," Alicia protested, her voice heavy and full of tears.

"Well, that's all we've got here, Leesh," Derrick replied, trying to sound as calm and easy as he was acting.

To say getting a text from Cam was surprising was an understatement. The two hadn't talked in weeks, not since the traitor decided to go after Massie, but when he received the _tell me you're in a shitty class right now _message, he felt as if nothing had changed.

And obviously he would be there in a heartbeat if Alicia were involved.

"I don't _want_-"

"Alicia…"

"Derrick, _please_."

Ignoring her, the blond soccer player pushed her into the bathroom, sharing a short nod with Cam, who waltzed off to god-knows-where. This was something only Derrick could do. He had no idea what went on in her previous class, but it was enough to make her this upset. Cam had filled him in on what had happened- just the actual actions, nothing else. He hoped whatever happened wasn't what he thought it was.

"Can't we just go to the nurse, please?" she begged.

Derrick shook his head. "Do you feel like you're going to hurl again?"

She flinched, but replied in the negative.

"Are you positive?"

"It was just a one time thing," she told him softly, wiping at her wet cheeks with her fingers. "I don't… I don't even know why I did that. I just… Blake or Brian or whatever his name was- he was telling Cam about what happened and I just got so… overwhelmed and uncomfortable and everyone was looking at me…"

"So you threw up on him. His name is Brian."

"Yeah, I threw up on Brian and I feel really bad about it but I couldn't get up." She coughed, and Derrick handed her a damp paper towel, allowing her to press it against her heated face.

He let a grin quirk at his lips. "Don't feel bad about it," he told her, "Brian is an asshole. I hate him. You did me a favor. I will never let him live this down."

Alicia sniffed. "Don't do that. I'm already the talk of the town as is."

"They'll get over it eventually."

"What if they don't?" Her voice was so small. He had never heard the great Alicia Rivera talk like this before. Granted, he had never seen her like this; Briarwood was showing him so many sides of her.

He observed her as she attempted to make sense of her makeup, rubbing her index finger against her eyelid. She swallowed roughly, digging through her bag for something (probably mints).

"Listen, Alicia-"

"They're not going to, are they?" she murmured. "I'm going to be the girl who begged for it- complete lie, by the way- forever, aren't I?"

Derrick sighed, leaning against the side of the sink. "No. You're not." She looked over at him, frowning slightly, eyes still red and face pale. "Look, just because a bunch of kids-"

"-the entire _school_-"

"Just because a bunch of kids are calling you names and teasing you over something you- and everyone who really cares about you- knows is false doesn't mean anything. They'll stop eventually and until then, don't let it get to you."

"But Derrick," she practically whined, voice hoarse, "no one knows but you."

_And Plovert_, he thought vaguely, unsure if she knew that or not.

"You didn't tell your friends?" he questioned. "Massie?"

Alicia shook her head furiously, eyes becoming glassy again. "I _can't_, Derrick. You don't understand. I… she's my best friend. Best, _best_ friend. What if I tell her and she wants nothing to do with me?"

Derrick grabbed her hand, tugging her away from the mirror. It was so hard to have a conversation with someone when they were just staring at themselves. "I told you this already," he said quietly, brushing the hair out of her face. "She's not like that."

"You don't know her like I do," she retorted. "We've had our fair share of fights. She overreacts and doesn't think twice about her actions. I don't think I could handle her giving up on me again. I'm always disappointing her."

"I know her in other ways, Leesh. You keep forgetting I dated her."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"It means something," he returned. "She showed me someone completely different and I can tell you with confidence that she wouldn't do what you think she will."

Alicia smiled weakly. "You're only saying all of these things because you still like her."

"I-I don't," he stammered, mentally slapping himself in the face for being an idiot.

"Don't worry. You're not that obvious. I just talk to you a lot so it's noticeable to me."

"Alicia, we're talking about _you_. Not me."

"Can we not?"

"You have to tell her," he said, trying to be forceful and caring at the same time. It was hard, though. "I know it's eating you up inside to keep something like this from her and I'm not very good at this advice-giving thing…"

Alicia licked her lips. "You're good enough."

"As much as that warms me inside, I want you to tell Massie."

"Do I have to?"

He shot her a look and she sighed. "I can't, Derrick."

"I have faith in you."

"What if she actually does what you say she won't?" she worried, nibbling on her bottom lip. "What if she hates me? I can't handle her walking away from me now. Before it was over stupid things like popularity and boys, I guess, but now this is so important and I just _need_-"

"_Shh_. Stop worrying so much," he cut in. "You need to let yourself do what you think is right. And I know you want to do this. I can tell."

Her brown eyes filled with a smidgen of fear. "Still, she could-"

"Don't think about it."

"How can I _not_?"

Derrick bent his neck so they were the same height; Alicia's eyes widened drastically, but he merely pressed his lips to her forehead and she relaxed against him, feeling less rigid and stressed.

"You'll be _fine_," he promised.

* * *

><p>Kristen threw her hair- sweaty and gross thanks to soccer practice- into a messy ponytail, throwing herself into the chair across from Todd. The red-haired Lyons, the only one they really liked at the moment, looked up at her from beneath his wavy fringe, drumming his fingers against his thighs.<p>

"Sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly. "Practice ran later than usual…"

He shrugged his shoulders. "S'fine. I needed time to actually _start_ my homework."

"You didn't?" she questioned. "I thought I told you I'd help you only if you attempted it!"

"Yeah, well, I was lazy," he admitted, "and you're better at explaining everything so I figured… You're not mad, are you?"

She shook her head quickly, gulping down the water from her bottle. "Of course not. I'd love to help you. I'm just a little drained."

"It can wait," he told her. "How was practice?"

"Harder than it was when I was on the Sirens." Kristen stretched her arms over head, letting out a delighted noise when her back cracked. "I think I got hit with the ball more times than it went in the net."

Todd frowned. "I'm not sure since I don't play and all, but I don't think that's supposed to happen."

"_Ha_, you are so funny," she teased. "Derrick was a little off today, I guess. He was hardly catching anything. His dad was fuming."

"How was your game, though? Still awesome?"

"Of course," she replied. "I can't be anything less. If I mess up even once, I'll be off the team for good."

"I highly doubt that'll happen. I've seen you play- you're amazing."

Kristen's cheeks reddened at his compliment and she found herself shyly looking away from him, her gaze settling on the rows of books to her right. "Nah."

"Yeah." He bobbed his head. "Someone average doesn't get a spot on the Tomahawks the way you did. An average _girl_ wouldn't be able to keep up with them. They're headed to championships already and they haven't had enough games to even prove that. It's just common knowledge."

"I'm sure another girl could do it."

Todd grinned at her. "Debatable."

She bit her lip, feeling so exposed under his gaze. "Let's get started on that homework, yeah?"

* * *

><p>Dylan hated mirrors.<p>

She hated the way they managed to make her look twenty times larger than she was. Or maybe they weren't doing anything other than showing her exactly what she looked like…

Either way, they needed to be eliminated. There was no point in seeing yourself. It promoted cockiness and conceit. They were ruining the world. Maybe she could convince Congress or something to pass a law regarding them.

But until then- because who would listen to a fifteen year old?- she was stuck with these huge-ass slab of glass on the back of her door. It wasn't helping her at all.

She saw what everyone else saw, what everyone was making fun of her for, the reason Landon had ditched her for Claire.

Pudge.

Pudge everywhere. Fat thighs. Chubby stomach. Three chins. Frizzy hair. Watery eyes. Thin lips.

It was so very unattractive.

_She_ was so very unattractive.

Was it too hard to ask to look just like Ryan and Jamie? Her sisters were beautiful and curvy, a perfect combination that Dylan could never seem to master. If only she could have received her mother's genes and not her absentee father's. Why did she get blessed with his inability to possess a fast metabolism? She was always the odd one out.

Her reflection was starting to make her nauseous, taunting her with her imperfections. She was nothing but a mess on two feet. Her nose was too big. Her eyes were too far apart. Even her fashion sense was awful. If Massie saw her sweats right now, she'd have a heart attack.

Letting out a pained yell, she threw her fist right into the mirror; the sound of breaking glass was like music to her ears. It fell to the ground, leaving a backboard upon her wall and a pile of shards at her feet.

Looking at it now, she didn't feel as relieved as she thought she would. Instead, upon scrutinizing the mess she made, she saw herself again in the tiny pieces. She was just as fat and disgusting as she was before.

Getting rid of mirrors wasn't going to change that.

* * *

><p>As spoiled and temperamental as Massie was, she really did enjoy her nightly walks with Bean. It was always a way for her to clear her head after a long day of school, to pull apart the jumbled thoughts in her brain into something that actually made sense.<p>

Not that much seemed to be bothering her this week, but she liked the cool breeze of autumn upon her cheeks and the sereneness of her neighborhood at nine o'clock. Bean's paws were the only sound for miles.

She took a deep breath, mulling over her latest thought, which happened to be the Derrick-Cam situation. She didn't like to spend so much time thinking about it considering how different they both were and how much she liked both of them.

Cam was the sweetest. He remembered things she said and went out of his way to make her happy, but there was just something missing. She had yet to figure out what it was. Maybe there was some part of her that couldn't like nice guys. Maybe there was something wrong with her that she found herself attracted to Derrick when she had a perfectly perfect boy at her-

"Massie!"

She knew that voice. It was the very same one that made her freeze up, unable to act in the way she normally would.

Still, she turned around. "Hey, Derrick. What's up?"

"Nothing really… you weren't in a rush to get home, were you?"

The brunette shook her head, tightening her grip on the leash. "Bean's pretty mellow right now. Why? Is something wrong?"

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Um, I wouldn't say something's _wrong_, I just want to talk to you about something."

The way he worded his sentence not only made Massie's heart race but sent her anxiety through the roof. _I want to talk _was the phrase no one- not even boys- wanted to hear. It always meant the worst.

"Sure. Go for it."

Derrick faltered, hesitating. "Do you want to sit? Maybe?" Without waiting for a response, he plopped himself on the ground, looking up at her expectantly, his darkish hair falling into his eyes.

Massie wanted to say _no_, there was no way she- the practical princess of Westchester- was placing her perfectly clean plaid pajama pants on the dirty cement, but no words came out of her mouth when she parted her lips. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders lightly, following his lead.

At nine oh seven, Massie Block and Derrick Harrington were sitting on the corner of Hunter Avenue and Gregory Place, a tiny black pug between them. It was quite a sight.

"So…"

"Um, I'm kind of worried about Alicia," he admitted to her, brushing his fingers through his hair. "I mean, you know we're sort of close, I guess, and it's just… she's… honestly, she's not okay."

The brunette swallowed. "I noticed," she murmured. "There's something up with her, am I right?"

He nodded. "I know it's none of my business, like, it's not _my_ secret to tell and I don't plan on it. But… I just need to get you to get her to tell you. I've been trying to convince that you won't react the way she thinks you will, but she doesn't believe me and-"

"Is this about her and Danny?"

"You know about that?"

She smiled sadly. "It's all around school, Derrick. You'd have to be blind and deaf to not notice it. I was just waiting for Alicia to tell me herself."

"And I've been trying to get her to do that," her ex-boyfriend told her softly, pulling Bean into his lap and scratching her behind the ears. The small dog licked at his cheek in excitement, causing Derrick to chuckle slightly at her antics. "But she's _so_ convinced you're going to hate her for life and get rid of her."

"I wouldn't," Massie told him, watching him as he interacted with her pug. For a moment she was silent, biting down on her lower lip while Derrick kissed the top of the dog's head. "I'm guessing she tried to tell us last weekend but she got scared. Instead she pulled some shit out of her ass and told his he wasn't nice or something like that."

"I just think she needs a friend who isn't me. I've tried my best but you… or even Dylan or Kristen could help her now. I'm sure you heard about what happened today at school."

"Yeah," Massie bobbed her head. "I didn't bring it up but she threw up, right?"

He looked up at her briefly, his dark-eyed stare sending goosebumps up her spine. "All over this asshole Brian's back in her social studies class. I don't know much about it, but I know she's upset and I can only do so much. You're her best friend…"

"I don't want to force her to do something she doesn't want to," admitted the brunette. "And I most certainly don't want to tell her blatantly that I know everything she's trying to keep a secret. I've turned a blind eye to the rumors and I'm pretty sure Dyl and Kris are too preoccupied to notice them."

"Will you just talk to her?"

"I'll try," she promised, "but I can't guarantee anything. Alicia's… well, you know her. She'll keep everything bottled up until it kills her."

Derrick chewed on his lower lip, looking thoughtful. "Please."

"I'm not going to go out of my way to get her to spill. She's not going to like that. If it comes up, I'll do it, alright? But if it doesn't, it's up to you to make sure she doesn't go over the deep end. You've been doing a good job so far."

"Massie-"

"I can't change who she is because you want her to tell someone else her deepest secret. It's hard for her to open up like that. I'm actually surprised she told you."

"Me too," he told her, dragging his hand across his face. "I just want what's best for her. A girl friend to talk to her seems like the best."

"And it probably is and she's trying. It's going to take more than this to get her to tell us."

He sighed. "She's afraid she'll ruin your reputation, that the Pretty Committee will crumble because everyone thinks she's a slut."

Massie's smile in response was soft. "The Pretty Committee crumbled a long time ago, Derrick. It would have nothing to do with her actions this year. We were never the same after the trip to Lake Placid. Something changed when we got back."

"But your image-"

"Image isn't everything. I've learned that much from being at your school. I could be the most popular girl there and no one would care. All that really matters is close friends, people who will always be there for you no matter what the circumstance."

Derrick gazed at her like she was some new kind of creation fresh from the factory. "Briarwood's really changed you guys, hasn't it?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I suppose it has," she agreed. Bean whimpered from his lap, opening her mouth into a large yawn. "It's getting late, though. We shouldn't sit out here _all_ night. Do you want some tea or something?"

"When you said it was late, I thought you would want me to head home."

She shook her head. "You live all the way on the other side of town. Isaac can take you home afterwards."

"U-uh," he stuttered, but she predictably ignored the sound. "If you're sure… I wouldn't want to intrude or-"

"Of course I'm sure, silly," she found herself saying, and then immediately wished she could take it back. _Silly?_ Who did she think she was? They weren't dating. They were hardly friends. And here she was, practically insinuating that they were friendlier than they actually were. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I were joking."

"I really don't want to barge in on your family like-"

"Seriously, Derrick. No one will mind. Isaac's met you a couple times; he likes you enough." She grabbed his hand as she stood, pulling him up with her. "Come on."

(He didn't let go of her hand until they were well inside her kitchen.)


	29. twenty eight

I hope this is alright. I want to get as many chapters out as possible before I go away to college in a week because I'm not sure when I'll be updating when I'm up there. This story has so much left to go. And as much as I hate to say it, I have to delete my siblings! story just because I don't have enough time to get that underway. Don't worry, it will be back though. You can count on it.

Thank you for the reviews! Please leave me some more?

* * *

><p><em>September pushed and shoved me<br>October was a mess  
>November was a blur<br>December left me reckless and restless_

It didn't take long for summer to turn to autumn and autumn to turn to winter. Halloween breezed by in a plethora of costumes; Thanksgiving proved, yet again, that there _was_ such a thing as "too much food".

With the changes in weather, there were changes in plenty of other things, too. The trees shed their leaves, fur-lined jackets were thrown over expensive outfits, and school curriculum got harder. But the most surprising of all—or the most common—involved people.

People grew and matured as life went on. They fell into stereotypes and ways of thinking all the time, but sometimes, they had a funny way of surprising you.

* * *

><p>There was a time and place to be melodramatic and any sane person would agree that the JFK airport was not one of them.<p>

Cam, however, was known for his remarkable inability to go against the crowd - all within good reason, of course. He figured this was as perfect a time as any to start dabbling in theatrics, considering it was about seven thirty in the fucking morning, he had just rolled out of bed, and - much to his chagrin - he was standing next to the Harrington family, whom of which they had "_coincidentally_", as his mother liked to put it, bumped into in the parking lot.

Yeah, it was a really good start to his Sunday.

His mother, Madison, clamped her hand to his shoulder, squeezing with a vice-like grip he wasn't aware she possessed. "Do you see him?" she demanded, forcing all her weight to her tip toes, granting her more height. "Is he there? His plane landed twenty minutes ago. Oh, you don't think he's jetted off somewhere else, do you? Went to Mexico for Winter Break? I've heard stories about that; what if he's -"

Her youngest son exhaled the deepest sigh, tuning his mother out as soon as she began her patented _What If_ rant. Madison Fisher was a worry-wart, plain and simple, always jumping to conclusion after conclusion when she couldn't spot her children - or anything else, really - in her first five minutes of looking for them.

As she carried on, Cam spared a glance at Derrick's family, pursing his lips in contemplation. Why had _he_ gotten the cool parents? The Harringtons were hardly the stereotypical Westchesterians, given their Southern roots. Unlike his own mother and father, dressed to the nines to stand in a lobby, Candace Harrington - total MILF, according to Kemp - legitimately looked like she was going to head back to bed once her children appeared. Clad in what was most likely her pajamas, she was the complete opposite of his own flesh and blood, who donned her cashmere and pearls as if she were going to a dinner party. Sometimes, Cam wondered if she was alright in the head.

Not like his father was any better. In what could only be described as half a tux, Kevin Fisher dressed the part of hotshot news anchor, who worked with some of the most hard-hitting stories. He always had to look good. It was just odd to stand next to them; he had thrown on whatever hadn't smelled gross, blearily brushed his teeth, and slept in the car.

All because his douche of a brother decided to take the earliest flight in the world. He was a real joy.

"Honey, I'm sure he didn't go to Mexico or the Bahamas," he heard his father soothe. "Remember, he called to tell you he was boarding a few hours ago."

"But what if he was boarding a _different_ flight, Kev?"

How could Cam slip away without anyone noticing? Better yet, how could he kill himself without anyone noticing? He was at the brink of insanity. The situation at hand was not one he wanted to be in. If anything had been normal for the past four months, he would've been making fun of his mother with Derrick, complaining about the early time, and asking if he wanted to go grab coffee in order to avoid the inevitable reunions that were about to occur.

Since it was now December and nothing had gone back to the way it was, that would obviously not be happening any time soon. In fact, it was hard to determine if it ever would. They might have permenantly fucked up their friendship for good this time. How was it that they could make a pact in seventh grade, promising that nothing - not girls, opportunities, grades: the whole nine yards - would get between them and then have Massie Block do it anyway? More importantly, Cam wanted to know how she managed to do it _twice_.

It was a real mystery they probably wouldn't be able to solve until they were older men with paying jobs and stable families. That is, if they ever made it that far.

" - he could be," Madison was going on, practically whimpering into her sleeve. "I know he said his friends were going to Europe... _oh my god_, Kevin! He's going to_ Amsterdam_! I told you we shouldn't have let him go away to college!"

_You have got to be kidding me_, Cam thought bitterly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He was going to have to get a haircut soon; he could practically cover his eyes with his locks...

Kevin coughed to hide his chuckle, sharing a look with his son, amusement twinkling in his eye. At least he thought this embarrassing predicament was funny. Cam was itching to get out of there. "He would've gone even if he were still here, dear," he reminded her with a gentle tone of voice. "He isn't one to listen, you know that."

"I'm having him taken out of school and he can go to the nice community college a few towns over," Madison decided, nodding her head in determination. "I'll call the Admissions as soon as possible and make the arrangements."

Cam groaned, letting his head loll back, making a face at the ceiling. As dumb as Harris was, he would not go to Amsterdam for a month. He'd actually have to make his own food and do his laundry. In Westchester, he'd have people to do that for him. _Honestly_.

"Still overreacting, I can see," a familiar boyish voice commented to his right.

He turned slightly, catching Derrick's brown-eyed gaze. "I'm pretty sure this entire airport can see."

"Not sure. She's quieter than usual," his friend - did that make sense? Maybe acquaintance was better suited - replied, barely stifling a yawn. "We can hardly hear her. She's flailing, though."

"She thinks Harris boarded a flight to Amsterdam instead of New York." Cam blanched, listening to Derrick snort. "I mean, this is the most outrageous she's been in a while. Since he went off in the first place, actually..."

"I'm so happy my mom doesn't care anymore," Derrick noted, looking over his shoulder at Candace, who merely rubbed at her makeup-less eyes, focusing her attention on the game she was playing on her iPhone. "By the time I go off to school, forget the tears - she'll be shoving me out the door."

Cam shook his head. "I don't think my mom will ever get over it. She's definitely going to develop Empty Nest Syndrome. I think she's already starting and I'm still in the house." He peered over at Madison, rolling his mismatched eyes at her antics.

She was currently holding Kevin's hand, face panic-stricken, mouth running a mile a minute. If he focused all his attention on something else, he could easily ignore everything she was saying.

"When Patrick left, my mom cried for weeks. You would've thought he was her only child or something. We had to order take out for every meal for a month because she wouldn't cook and she refused to reinstate our maid." Derrick's mouth opened widely in a yawn again, causing him to cover it with his fist. "Then Sammi left and her only words were '_my only daaaaaaaughter_'. Yes, just like that too. I can't make this crap up."

"At least my mother wasn't the only crazy one."

"Yeah, seems like yours stayed that way though," Derrick murmured. "My mom's straight up chillin' now."

The dark-haired boy sighed, the conversation coming to a standstill. Madison's worries and declarations of community college hit his ears, igniting his urge to kill himself yet again. There had to be some creative way to go about it. Or there had to be a McDonalds around. A plastic fork would have to do, despite the obvious time it would take to do the deed - and the copious amount of blood. It would really get the job done.

He was about to bolt - Derrick would be the only one to miss him - when a familiar figure caught his eye. Actually, it was three familiar figures, but it was the annoyingly familiar pretty boy face he saw that caused relief to flood through his entire body.

"Hey, Ma," he called out. "I don't think Harris went to Amsterdam after all."

Derrick chortled next to him as Madison's head shot up, her previously pale countenance brightening considerably. "_Harris__!_" she called out gleefully. "Harris, honey!"

Cam stepped to the side, merging with the Harringtons, when his mother waved her arms in the air like a lunatic. _He sees you_, he wanted to say, but he knew for a fact that she wouldn't stop until her "wittle baby boy" was tucked safely in her embrace.

The trio came up to them faster than anticipated, empty-handed and in amiable spirits. Patrick and Sammi headed towards Candace, Derrick, and James while Harris made his way to his own. Madison threw her arms around him, tightening her hold on his body, while he patted her back less than enthusiastically. Kevin greeted him with his usual spiel of _how was college, hope you're behaving_, keeping it strictly manly.

Once Madison let go of him, Harris went over to hug Cam, which was weird considering they didn't really do the whole physical family stuff, muttering in his ear: "How was she this time?"

"You're going to community college next semester because you're on your way to Amsterdam." Cam grinned at the incredulous look upon his brother's face.

"She's insane."

"Well aware."

And that ended _that_ brother bonding moment. Harris left his side and sidled up to Patrick, who had managed to leave his mother's own fussing. Candace's wasn't as over the top as Madison's was, but it still seemed to look awfully annoying.

Sammi, in the process of getting her hair smoothed, looked over at Derrick, quirking her lips into a - rather terrifying - smile. "Hey, little bro, busy?"

"Obviously not," Derrick returned. "I'm standing in an airport."

"Good." She threw her arm over her shoulder. "Baggage claim is over there. Go get my bags for me, will you? There's too many for me to carry by my lonesome."

The youngest Harrington frowned. "Get them yourself."

"Don't talk to your sister like that," James Harrington barked. "Get her bags for her. She's had a long flight."

"_Long flight? _All she did was sit there! It's not like she steered the plane home!"

"Don't sass me," his father snapped. "Go get them and put them in the car. Get Patrick's too."

Derrick rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath.

Cam forced a sympathetic smile, sincerely feeling sorry for him. Knowing Sammi she probably overpacked; she always did.

"Cammie can go with you, Derrick!" Madison suggested. "Some extra hands will do you good. You can get Harris' while you're at it."

"Why can't Harris get his own?"

"Be nice, Cammie," his mother chided.

He didn't bother to argue after that, knowing that when his mother used "Cammie" instead of Cam, it meant business. Most would think Cameron would be the tip-off and they would be right, if they were at home. In the privacy of their own large home, Madison could yell and shout all she wanted. In public, she remained calm and collected (for the most part) and used terms like _sweetie _and _honey _to prove her point.

Copying Derrick's slouched position, he followed after the blond, zigzagging through businessmen and college students alike. Of course the baggage claim had to be what felt like miles away from their starting point.

"I finally figured out why they begged me to come," Derrick told him as they got closer. "I'm the only one they can still boss around."

"I'm sure that's not -" Derrick turned to glare at him, looking exhausted and annoyed. "Okay, maybe it is."

They fell silent again while they searched for their siblings' luggage, looking for any sign of Sam's numerous Louis Vuittons. Cam thought he spotted Harris' own large duffle, but realized he would never have a stitching of a pink flower upon it.

"Oh," Derrick said aloud, reaching forward and grabbing a black bag. "Here. This is Harris'."

"Thanks..." Cam dropped it to the ground by his feet. "You know, you don't have to do this."

"You don't have to help me with Sammi's either. I'm just returning the favor," Derrick replied, narrowing his eyes at the onslaught of luggage. "_Oh_, there it is."

Without thinking, Cam helped him with the mound of bags, throwing them unceremoniously to the floor in order to quickly pick up the others. Whilst doing this, he blurted, "I didn't mean that. I meant... you don't have to talk to me. I know you're mad at me for going after Massie when you still liked her -"

"Let's not get into that again," Derrick suggested, brushing the hair out of his face. "I didn't handle it as well as I could have and well, it wasn't that big of a deal, you know? I was just upset and angry, I guess. It was stupid for me to act out like that."

Cam blinked, faltering in his motions ever so slightly. Out of all the things he could have said, he never anticipated_ that_ to come out of Derrick's mouth. _Wasn't that big of a deal? _How much had changed since they stopped talking? It didn't seem quite like him to admit to something like that or to say that Massie Block, the girl he had been infatuated with since about ever, wasn't 'a big deal'.

"Uh, what?"

"Yeah, I know," Derrick replied, keeping his eyes trained to the bags he was still heaving on to the floor. "I surprised myself too, but I guess it's good for me, you know? She didn't like me anyways."

"I wouldn't say that. She did date you after all."

The blond shrugged. "Yeah, a year and a half ago. Then I fucked it up. I lost my chance. I shouldn't let you - or anyone else - lose yours either. I can't stake my claim on her. She's a person, not a possession."

"Right," Cam agreed. "So, like, you're over her?"

"For the most part, yeah." He still wouldn't look at him. "Besides, our friendship is too important to lose over a girl. Us not talking was lame."

"Yeah. It wasn't our smartest moment. You have Olivia anyway, don't you?"

"Of course." His expression was unreadable. "Do you want to put this all behind us and stop being assholes to each other?"

Cam wet his lips, standing the toppled over luggage surrounding him. "Yeah," he answered after a moment. "Yeah."

"Great." Derrick forced a smile. "Let's get this shit over to the family before Christmas comes and goes."

The brunette nodded, tugging the rolling suitcases through the airport, accidentally running over various feet. He kept his gaze on Derrick's back, making sure not to lose him in the hustle and bustle. As much as the conversation they had made sense - and surprised him immensely - he had this uncanny feeling that Derrick wasn't telling him the whole truth. There was so much he knew about him that even after months of forced formalities and ignoring each other, he could tell something was up.

Would he tell him about it? Cam wasn't quite sure. He could only guess as far as he was allowed to see and Derrick wasn't giving him much. What he did know, however, was the subject of Massie was one that still bothered him, even if he tried to pretend it didn't.

* * *

><p>"Alicia! <em>Alicia<em>, honey!" Nadia called through the bathroom door, knocking for a third time. "Are you okay?"

The Latina leaned her sweaty forehead against the cool porcelain of her toliet seat. _No_, she thought weakly, taking deep breaths. _I am not okay. Does it sound like I'm okay, Mom? _

She didn't want to open her mouth in fear of what might come out other than words. She was already surrounded by enough of her stomach's contents to last her a lifetime. Alicia was really starting to wonder if she secretly enjoyed vomiting. That seemed like all she did these days. Even the smell was starting to become familiar.

"Alicia, I'm coming inside," her mother announced, turning the knob.

_No, please_, Alicia wanted to say, but she couldn't. Not when her entire body seemed to convulse, her throat burning. Nadia was not inside Alicia's private bathroom for longer than two seconds before she saw her in a position she had not for quite some time. The last time she had been so sick she couldn't keep anything down had been years ago, probably when she was about seven and had a bad case of the flu.

"Oh, honey," she cooed, dropping to her knees. "What's wrong?"

_Take a guess_, she snapped in her mind, wondering when her mother got so _stupid_. "I don't feel very well," she admitted, forcing herself to remove the edge from voice. Was she blind or...?

"What hurts?"

"Stomach," Alicia coughed out, spitting up into the toliet. "Head."

Nadia pouted, pulling her daughter's hair away from her neck. "Do you want to lay down?"

"I don't think I can," Alicia murmured. "I feel like I'm just going to throw up again."

"Let's get you to bed," Nadia decided, stepping to her feet and helping the younger girl up. She flushed away the evidence of Alicia's sickness and led her back into her room, helping her onto her queen-sized mattress.

After tucking her in and fluffing her pillows, Nadia brushed Alicia's sweaty bangs out of her face. "I'll make you some tea, how does that sound?"

Alicia wanted to decline the offer and wallow in her own self-pity. She didn't remember what it was like to be bed-ridden but so far, she wasn't liking it. All she wanted was to get out of her house, maybe hang out with Massie and get mani/pedis. Unfortunately, her immune system sucked and that lame all-boys' school infected her. She didn't deserve this after everything else that happened to her. If only she could go back to OCD; she never got sick there...

"Can you get me _Aladdin_ too while you're downstairs?" she asked, feeling rather small for wanting such a thing.

Nadia smiled softly. "Sure. Anything else?"

"Um... the entire Disney collection, actually," Alicia changed her mind bashfully, trying to ignore the rolling of her stomach. There was nothing like a movie marathon to make herself feel better - and what better way to start than with all of her childhood classics?

"No problem." Her mother moved her teal waste basket to the side of her bed. "If you feel like you can't make it to the bathroom, just... do your business there, alright? Don't worry about the mess. I'll have Joyce clean it up if anything happens."

Alicia nodded. "Got it."

"I don't want you to move at all. Today is a resting day, okay? Use this time to get some rest and try to get better. If you're not feeling well tomorrow, you can stay home but you'll have to go to the doctor."

"Okay." The smaller girl tried to make herself comfortable. "Thank you, Mommy."

"It's what I'm here for," her mother replied. "I'll be back. Try to get some sleep."

"I can't make any promises."

Nadia padded out of the room, shut the lights, and closed the door behind her. Alicia groaned softly, wishing she could get better quicker than she knew she would. This felt worse than anything she ever contracted before; she was going to blame Briarwood until the day she died for this. Obviously boys were not the healthiest and cleanest of the two sexes, therefore they managed to ruin her life in two separate ways. Such angels those guys.

She hated all of them, except for maybe a select few. Even the ones she liked she wasn't sure why. It was weird, but she didn't want to question it. Her friendship with the five of them - especially Derrick's - made her feel safe in a school that obviously didn't want her. Maybe she would get so sick she wouldn't be able to go back; that would be _so _-

Her phone alerted her of a message beneath her comforter, the vibrations causing her stomach to feel uneasy once again. She ignored it for the time being, taking deep breaths, her hand close to grasping the trashcan her mother left for her. She really didn't want to have to do this again...

Her breaths started to speed up, her fear causing her to pant. She didn't like the nausea or the actual act of throwing up. Her forehead broke out into a cold sweat and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the feeling to pass. _Please, please, please_.

A millennium seemed to pass by before she started to resemble her old self. She was shaky and sore, but there was no way she was about to upchuck anything. She had managed to evade it.

Bringing her hand to grab her cell, she opened the message she had received previously, squinting her eyes against the harsh light of her screen.

DYLAN: mani/pedis today? jamie and ryan are home..

Alicia frowned, wishing she could respond affirmatively to the question. Her nails were in dire need of a fixing.

ALICIA: can't /: i'm sick

DYLAN: oh no what's wrong

ALICIA: i've been throwing up since five am and i think i might have a fever

DYLAN: uck sounds awful. i guess i'll go get my nails done with the double mint twins and i'll swing by and bring you some soup?

ALICIA: sounds good. if you don't mind catching whatever i have, maybe you can cuddle and watch disney movies with me?

DYLAN: i'll make sure to take plenty of dayquil. is 12ish good?

ALICIA: perf

Tossing her phone clumsily on her nightstand, the Latina felt her mood lift considerably. There was nothing like having a friend that would tough it out and spend the afternoon with her even though she might throw up every so often. Dylan was always the most reliable, the one who never thought twice. She would do anything to make sure Alicia got through the day without focusing so much on how she was feeling.

Now all she had to do was wait until lunchtime.

* * *

><p>Chris sighed, tapping his fingers against the sleek surface of the table. Making sure he was seated with a perfect view of the front door, he kept his gaze on the outside world, awaiting the rest of his Student Council to show up, all the while talking on the phone and trying to enjoy his coffee before he got a major headache.<p>

" - can't you _fire_ him or something?" Kemp growled on the other line.

"He isn't doing anything wrong," Chris reminded him for the umpteenth time. "Just because he's a jerk doesn't mean he's not qualified for the job."

Kemp breathed deeply, angrily. "Why are you defending him, man? He's a dick. We are all aware of that. You know what he's been doing."

"I do know," Chris agreed. "But I can't do anything about his position because of _that_. He has to use his vice presidency for all the wrong reasons in order for me to bring it up to the principal."

"Then _make him_," Kemp all but ordered, tone steely.

"He has to do it on his own, Kemp." Chris took a long sip of his hot coffee, burning his tongue in the process. "I know that he's been targeting Josh, but -"

"Wait, you know about that?"

"Yeah. Him, Keith, Ridder, and the rest of the lacrosse team. It's pretty hard to ignore. They're probably only doing it because he's still sort of the newbie and easy to terrify. I wouldn't worry about it."

Kemp sighed in what sounded like relief. "Oh. Yeah, probably. I don't like it though. That's why he shouldn't be directly under you in power."

"It's just the student government, Kemp. It's not actual politics."

"I don't _care_. I want him gone."

"If he fucks up, I'll make sure to bring it up immediately. Until then..." Chris' gaze fell on the three incoming teenage boys, the little bell above the door sounding as they entered the coffee shop. "Until then," he repeated, "I gotta go. I'll tell you how this goes later."

"You better."

The two hung up, Chris quickly slipping his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. He watched the trio split up, Owen Crawford throwing himself in the chair across from the other boy. He hardly said hello, gazing out into space. Henry Blanks followed his lead a bit more gracefully, placing his Mac on the table and settling himself in one of the other empty seats.

"Hey, Plov," he greeted, unlike his companion. "How's it going?"

Chris shrugged. "Well, I'd say. You?"

"I figured it all out," he replied. "It doesn't look too good, but I'll wait until Jude comes back before I tell you about it."

He really hoped there was no problem, given their recent situation, and found himself urging Jude Franco to return with Owen and Henry's usual drinks.

A few moments of awkward silence later, Jude returned, somehow balancing three cups in his hands, and placed them in front of each their respective owners. Henry received the caramel iced coffee, Owen the gingerbread, and Jude whatever it was he drank every week.

"So," Chris began after everyone was occupied with their beverages. "Have we figured out what happened with the budget?"

Henry, the treasurer, nodded quickly, swallowing. "After some research and careful poking around, it seems that Landon Crane - treasurer last year, when he was a sophomore - used the funds for little projects he wasn't allowed to carry out. I'm not sure what any of them are, but the various receipts he left in the folder prove that they were not the cheapest of things." He powered up his computer and selected a powerpoint to show them exactly what happened.

Chris fought the urge to snort, failing drastically, and grabbing Jude's amused attention. Give it up to Henry to be extremely thorough.

"He got caught, naturally, which is why he wasn't allowed to run again this year, so the school never reimbursed him like they would have if the money had been spent on projects approved by the board," Henry explained, flipping through the figures he had found in his hunt for the truth. "What I couldn't understand was why the debt stayed with the sophomore grade in general and didn't follow him, but no one would answer my question when I asked."

"I'm assuming it's for punishment purposes," Jude piped up, blowing on his hot coffee. "They had to place the blame on someone - they couldn't just let it slide, right? They probably don't care who gets it."

"True," Chris agreed. "And this way, we wouldn't make the same mistake... because we don't have any money to do so."

"What does this all mean though?" Owen demanded, looking pompous as ever. "We don't have any money meaning we don't have any money to put towards prom in two years."

Henry pointed at him in recognition, pressing his space bar three times. "I thought of that. Now there has to be a way we can pay the school back for Crane's doings _and_ still have time to get something for prom."

"Why don't we just take from the junior class' balance?" suggested Jude. "That seems like the most logical."

"Apparently Briarwood doesn't do logical," Henry muttered. "We're on our own for this. Matters such as funds and the like go to Vice Principal Morgan and she's a bitch and a half, so she told me to 'find my own solution'."

Chris groaned. "Like I'd ever expect her to help us in the first place."

"Can't see how she got hired," Jude agreed. "She can't do anything right."

"Yeah, that's true. Like last week, I asked her to help me out with the mess of the student handbook, since I have to make corrections to it and she was all -"

"Can we _not_ spend our time gossiping?" Owen snapped. "How are going to fix this if no one is going to help us?"

Henry grinned. "That's where you're wrong, my friend."

"We're not friends."

"It's a _phrase_, buddy."

Chris urged him to continue and Henry flushed, apologizing for the wait. His next slide only had three letters on it: _OCD. _

"Elaborate," ordered Owen, already looking put-off by the idea.

"Well, we're their brother school, right? We should help each other out in times of need and, well, it's their prom, too, so I figure they would want to get as much money as possible."

"So..."

"Join forces with _their_ student government."

Chris, Jude, and Owen stared at him. He, in return, looked back, quietly gauging their reaction.

"That's a -"

" - terrible idea," Owen announced, pursing his lips. "Next."

"You didn't even let him explain it further," Jude pointed out. "Don't judge something before you hear it out."

The obnoxious boy rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt the problem is so big that we have to work with the girls. I know you're a theatre kid and all, Blanks, but leave the dramatics for the stage, yeah?"

Henry glared at him, narrowing his eyes menacingly. "We have next to no money. We're in _debt _with the school because Landon Crane is a shithead. I'm not making this up."

"Yeah, whatever. I'll just have my father write a check and then we'll go from there."

"Nay," Chris spoke up. "Rule number one of the sudent government: _earn_ the money. You can't have family members - unless they are partaking in some event - give money. So that's out of the question."

"They would never have to know," Owen grumbled. "We could just slip it into Dean Don's office and -"

"Slip a check with your father's name on it secretly into his office?" Henry questioned. "Right. Sounds like a _great_ plan."

"It's better than yours!"

"It's really not."

"I don't want to work with girls!" Owen hissed. "They probably don't even run their own government correctly. They have, like, dances and fashion shows and shit. I refuse to partake in that."

Chris looked at him for a long moment, keeping eye contact with the boy just enough to make him sweat. Owen fidgeted slightly, playing with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. "If you don't want anything to do with it," he began at a tantalizingly slow pace, "you can step down. We wouldn't mind."

Owen remained silent.

"There are people _killing_ for your spot right now, Crawford. It wouldn't be right if you didn't agree with our plans and stuck around when there's a group of others who will probably think this plan has a lot of potential."

"I'm not leaving," he snapped, flicking his hair out of his face, "but I don't vote for this plan, got it?"

"Wow," Chris deadpanned, "but I do. You know what that means, right?"

There was no answer.

With a sickly sweet smile, Chris answered his own question: "It's on."

"_What?_" Owen exclaimed, sitting up right. "You're fucking kidding, right? You can't be..."

Chris ignored him, turning his attention to his other two government officials. Henry had closed his computer, looking rather pleased with himself. Jude returned to his seat after throwing out his cup, stretching his limbs out.

"Would you like me get in contact with OCD's secretary?" the latter questioned. "I'm sure I could find out who it is and we can get a plan going."

"No. I have a better idea. This meeting is adjourned. I want to meet back here this time next week - maybe a little earlier. I'll send an email to your school accounts by Tuesday at the latest, so make sure you check that. Jude, I'll talk to you tomorrow at school. Henry, try to figure out how much we need to actually make _enough_, alright? And Owen... just remember, you _are_ replaceable."

With those sweet parting words, Chris stood from his seat, gave each of them a nod, and exited the shop, pulling his phone out once more to get in contact with someone he knew would not let him down with this particular mission.

"Hey, Kris?"

* * *

><p>The Westchester Mall food court was a prime socializing spot. If one obtained the very best table - the one in the very middle - they were in the perfect position to view and be viewed.<p>

Claire lifted her arms languidly over her head, surveying the crowds of people around her. Mothers and fathers were trying to harness their younger children, bribing them with toys, clothes, food - _anything_ - if they would just calm down. Middle school-aged girls in outfits far too old for them sauntered by boys that would never look their way, giggling when they claimed they had. Businessmen and women waltzed into high-end department stores.

At her very own table, Skye was busy texting on her phone, her usual smirk in place. Heidi was playing with salad, picking and choosing what to eat and what to spare. Sam and Deena were boy hunting even though the former had one Landon Crane in the palm of her hand. That didn't stop her from ogling the Abercrombie-hot boys that were known to spend long hours at the mall.

This was the life. Spending time with _good_ friends, not fake, and having all the inside jokes in the world. The DSL Daters were not like the Pretty Committee in the slightest. They always included her in everything they did, made sure she felt welcome... something Massie and the others never bothered to do.

Not like that really mattered anymore. Now that she was away from them, she felt better, free. She didn't constantly have to worry if she were in or not. Skye liked her for her and not the potential outfits she wore. Besides, the boys were even cuter in the eleventh grade.

"_Ooh_," Skye squealed. "Guess who texted me?"

Heidi looked up from her food. "Uh, Danny?"

"No, stupid. We're on a break, remember?"

Deena snorted. "People on breaks don't fuck at parties last time I checked."

Skye sighed. "That meant nothing. We haven't talked since then and I don't really plan on it... considering Derrick finally got around to answering me."

"Why are you even excited about that?" Heidi asked, nibbling down on a carrot piece. "He's, like, fifteen."

"_Very_ inexperienced." Deena faked a yawn. "You could do better. Actually, you've done better. Multiple times."

"Yeah, but he's adorable," Skye defended, fingers flying across her keypad. "I mean, Claire, you've seen him numerous times. Tell them how hot he is."

Claire made a face, taking a long, _loooong_ sip of her smoothie. "Uh... I guess he's more attractive than most fifteen year olds. I didn't really spend a lot of time looking at him." She paused, debating. "Besides, every time I _was_ around him, he was all lovestruck for Massie."

Skye flared her nostrils, brushing her fingers through her long curls. "Don't mention her around me."

Sam nodded, gagging. "Not a fan."

"Neither am I, but that doesn't change the facts, you know," Claire pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "I wouldn't bother with him if I were you. Last I checked, he was still hung up on her anyways."

The blond alpha rolled her striking eyes, but smiled mischieviously regardless. "Once I'm done with him, he won't be hung up on anyone but _me_."

Deena tapped her chin, her facial expression making Claire's skin crawl. "What makes you think he'll want to do anything with you? From what Claire says, he sounds like he'd pick Massie over you any day."

"If nobody else is choosing her side, what makes you think he will?" retorted Skye, eyes glued to her phone's screen. "Aw, wow. He even types grammatically correct! _Presh_."

Heidi mimed gagging on her fork, causing Claire to burst into a splutter of giggles.

Sam, on the other hand, ignored her immaturity and questioned, "What do you mean by that?"

"It's simple," Skye began to explain, "they're not at OCD anymore. She doesn't rule that school anymore. How can she if she doesn't attend? And I highly doubt she's got the upperhand at Briarwood..."

"She doesn't," Claire elaborated. She was there, after all, watching them even if she didn't want to. "In fact, it's quite the opposite. I don't think I've ever seen them at the lowest until we started to attend that school."

Skye quirked an eyebrow. "Interesting... Care to tell me more?"

"Well." Claire licked her lips, thinking back to everything that's happened to them. Not that it was much to them as a _whole_, but it was enough to shake them. "You know that Alicia slept with Danny, so every single boy has been calling her out on being a slut and whatnot. A few months ago, she actually _puked_ on a kid for embarrassing her so much."

Heidi burst out laughing. "You're _kidding_."

"No." Claire shook her head. "Even I'm not that mean."

"What else?" Skye looked intrigued.

Claire shrugged. "Nothing else big like that, but you can tell the entirety of the boys at that school don't want them - us, really, because I'm also there - to go to school there. Like, we're invading. They've been treating everyone like shit, really."

"Including you?"

"Not as badly. Danny and Landon make sure of it."

"Good," Skye nodded. "I would hate it if they went after you too."

"Yeah, they're not. It's fine. Can we get off the subject of Massie and Co. though? It's giving me a massive headache."

"Yes please," Sam agreed. "On to more important things... like Derrick. What did he say? Did he give in yet?"

Skye pursed her lips, dropping her phone on the table. "No. His siblings are home from college and he has to spend time with them today. He said another time." Despite the sad news, she grinned cheerfully. "Don't worry, girls. I'll get him eventually. And by the end of it - just like everyone else in this stupid town - he'll be left without any idea of who Massie Block is."


	30. twenty nine

Even though this day is mostly about me, I figured you all deserved an update. Today is my birthday and my last day in my hometown for a while. I don't know when I'll be getting another chapter out to you since I'm starting something new in my life. In case it's not for a while, I just wanted to thank you all for being so supportive of this story and letting me mess with the characters we all love and hate. No one knows just how much I appreciate this website and all of you - and I feel super sappy right now - and I really hope after this you all understand.

Anyway, this is the end of the two month jump, so the plotline will be starting up more than it has in these previous chapters. And if any of you care, I have pictures of what everyone looks like on my profile.

:*

* * *

><p>"It's icy. There is <em>snow<em> on the ground," Kristen defended, blue-green gaze staring out at the abandoned field. No one in their right mind would be here and yet... she was. "_Snow_."

"Afraid you can't do it?" Todd's deepening voice asked, amusement laced in his tone.

Kristen gasped. "Are you trying to imply what I think you're trying to imply?"

"Depends. Care to enlighten me?"

Tucking a few locks of golden hair into her beanie - made for warmth, not fashion - she responded: "Seems like you're trying to say I _can't_ play in -"

"Yep, that was it," he interrupted, bumping her shoulder. "If you don't think you're up for the challenge, I'm sure we could go back to the library."

"No," she said quickly. "Normally I'm not one to avoid hitting the books, but it is _so_ on, Lyons."

"Great." He grinned, lips curving adorably.

Kristen's competitive edge faltered - he used it to her here, asshole - when she had the mistake of looking over at him. His eyes twinkled in the early afternoon light, reddish hair darkening as time went on. Clearing her throat, she said, "Hope you can keep up," ignoring the way her cheeks were heating up.

He tossed the black-and-white ball into her hands. "I think I can."

"Last time I checked, you couldn't play, so..."

"Well, let's see if you're all you're cracked up to be then," he proposed, rubbing his hands together.

"Let's." She smirked, dropping the ball, and kicking it away from them.

A half an hour later, when the ball ricocheted off a tree, dropping snow all over Todd ("Are you fucking _kidding_?" he spluttered, spitting the powdery weather out of his mouth), the pair found themselves staring up at the graying sky, backs to the ground in a frozen snow angel. She was giggling like mad, him frowning, trying to mask his amusement.

"It's not _that_ funny," he muttered. "You can stop laughing."

Kristen coughed, unable to do so. "You - you shot the ball into your own goal, Todd."

"So?"

"So... you don't get how funny that is?"

"To you, maybe," he retorted, tossing some snow at her. "To me, it's extremely unsettling."

She kicked his leg. "You did well for someone who has no knowledge of the game."

"I have _knowledge_." He crossed his arms defiantly. "I just don't know how to play."

Kristen placed her hand on his shoulder. "Boy, that's the truth."

Todd huffed. "Normal people wouldn't tease me the way you are. You're not a very good teacher."

"Wow, I'm so offended."

"You should be," he mock-snapped.

"If I'm so bad at teaching soccer, maybe we should get back to what I'm _actually _good at," she suggested, getting to her feet.

"_No_!" Todd yelped, grabbing her hand so quickly, she stumbled, falling back down - this time, on top of him. Her breathing hitched as his hands fell to her waist, keeping her upright, but he didn't seem to notice her uncharacteristic reaction. "You said we could take a break."

His voice, for some reason, became huskier than she remembered when he responded, causing an array of goosebumps to dot her creamy skin. Thank _god_ she was all bundled up or that would've been embarrassing.

She didn't understand what was going on, but managed to speak: "I did. I think we've taken a long enough break, though... don't you think?"

He shook his head. "I think we could wait a little longer. Of course, that's only if you allow it."

Kristen pursed her lips, suddenly well aware of the fact she was straddling the youngest Lyons. Her cheeks immediately tinged a reddish color to rival Dylan's eccentric and vivacious curly locks.

"Uh." She coughed. "Sorry about t-this. I'll just get off -"

Todd tightened his grip on her hips, something changing in his eyes. "Kristen..."

"Todd, I really - this isn't very professional -"

"You're my _tutor_, not my boss," he cut in.

Kristen let out a shaky breath. "Yes, that is true, but I'm still in charge of making sure you get good grades at the end of the month. Our playing around is not going to do anyhing of that -"

Todd tucked the fallen strands of her hair behind her ear, thumb brushing tentatively against her beet-red cheek. "Kristen?" he interrupted her rambling, gazing at her in something akin to adoration. "Shut up."

She stopped, incredulous. No one had ever spoken to her life that.

In her confusion, she failed to notice that Todd shifted until he pressed his mouth hot against hers in a kiss she was unaware he could initiate.

She froze, on the brink of reciprocating and just sitting there. Her mind, normally running at a thousand miles an hour, was empty, no thought occupying the space. She vaguely acknowledged how soft his lips were before her own started to press back.

His hands let go of her hips, moving upward to grasp her face. With his fingers partially embedded in her hair, she felt his tongue gently ask - more like prod - her mouth to open. She allowed the kiss to escalate, her own fingers tugging at his mop of (wet) curls.

Just as he was fidgeting to make himself more comfortable all the while keeping her from falling flat in the snow, she faltered, mind beginning to work at the speed of light once again.

This was _Todd Lyons_, one of her friends' - ex-friend, but that didn't matter at the moment - little brother. More importantly, this was the boy she was _tutoring_, the one that needed her help in academics, not kissing. _And_ she didn't have time for this. She had to focus herself on her studies, on good grades, on college, and her scholarship. Immersing herself in boys, especially one she saw almost every day, was not going to help her in the long run.

Breaking away from him, she jumped to her feet as if Todd had burned her. "I'm sorry," she spoke rapidly, "I need to go."

He blinked, obviously confused, pushing up to match her height. "Kristen -" He grabbed her wrist, but she pulled it away. "_Kristen_."

The blond avoided his gaze, scooped her bag - now damp from laying in the snow - off the ground, covered her neck with a scarf, and began to hightail it out of the there. This was wrong. So, so wrong. How could she have been so stupid as to let it all happen?

"Kristen!" he called after her. She noticed he hadn't tried to follow. "You left your ball!"

She had... but there was no way she was turning back to get it now.

"Keep it!" she shouted. "I've got plenty!"

* * *

><p><em>Magic Nails<em> was not the first place Dylan would have chosen to get a mani-pedi. Her first instinct - probably after years of friendship with Massie - was to go to the salon in the Westchester where she knew every worker on a first name basis and they didn't have to ask her what she wanted. Here, the owner fussed over her, made her cuticles bleed, and burnt her hands with the hot towels. She was not pleased.

Sighing, she stared at herself in the mirror behind the woman's chair, wincing with each harsh movement she made. In the reflective surface, Dylan could see herself and her sisters - twins who looked nothing alike except for their high cheekbones and small noses. They, of course, looked flawless in their loungewear whilst Sylan, on the other hand, looked the complete opposite. Red, curly locks tamed into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, black headband pulling the hair away from her face... She looked like an animal - and not one of those cute ones. More like a wildebeest.

For some reason, her small amount of makeup was smudging and melting. Of course, her hands were tied so she was unable to fix it.

"Dyl," Ryan called from her seat a few feet away, "what color did you get?"

"Uh... mint," she replied distractedly, scrutinizing her appearance yet again.

Even though she had dropped three dress sizes since September, her face was still chubby. Her arms were gigantic in her no name sweater, clingy to her ugly, freckled skin.

"Oh, cute." Ryan smiled, her irritatingly perfect face scrunching up in a way Dylan's could never. She was also the only one in the family to need braces. "I chose lavender."

"I went the electric blue route." Jamie blew her long bangs out of her face; they fell beautifully around her heart-shaped face.

Dylan clenched her jaw.

"Of course you did," Ryan teased. "Are you trying to rebel again?"

"Just missing my rocker phase." Jamie shrugged.

"Ooh, I liked that haircut."

Everyone had. Choppy layers, sexy side bangs, dyed a color so black it reflected blue in the light. Jamie had pulled it off so well: She had the face for it. Dylan would have never been able to look even remotely good with something like that. Not only was it far too drastic for her thick, curly, frizzy hair type, it would have made her look fat... not like that was any different that usual.

" - Dylan!" Jamie's voice rang out, louder than before. "Are you listening to me?"

The redhead swallowed. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

Her sister huffed good-naturedly. "I was _asking_ if you wanted to get lunch after this."

_And be around you two perfect people? _she thought bitterly. _No thanks._

"What time is it?" the younger questioned, slapping the manicurist's hands away when she tried to spread another layer of lotion to her skin. Three was enough. More than, actually.

Ryan licked her lips. "Um, eleven forty-five-ish. We should be outta here by twelve."

"We can go to that sandwich place you like -"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Dylan responded. "I promised Leesh I would hang out with her. She's not feeling well."

"Oh." Jamie sounded disappointed.

"Yeah, so could you drop me there when we're done here? I don't want to leave her waiting too long."

Fifteen minutes and a cupful of Dayquil later, Dylan was where she promised she'd be, snuggled into Alicia's fluffy comforter, full of an immense amount of energy, thanks to her medicine.

"_I can show you the woooorld_," she belted, the animated characters of _Aladdin_ flying through the sky. "_Shining, shimmering, splendid - tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide_?"

Alicia giggled into her pillow, hugging it tightly to her body.

"_I can open your eyes, take you wonder by wonder: Over, sideways, and under on a magic carpet ride. A whole new wolrd, a new fantast_ -"

"Don't make me laugh," Alicia hiccoughed. "It hurts enough as it is."

Dylan stopped short, face morphing into that of sympathy. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "Do you feel like you're going to vom?"

"Only if I move too much," she alerted her, swallowing roughly. "And I really don't want to anymore."

"Is it lessening at least?"

"Yeah, a bit. I just..." she trailed off when her door was pushed open softly.

Joyce entered, holding a tray of two bowls, which she placed on the nightstand by Alicia's head. Taking the empty cup of tea away, she announted, "Pastina. For the both of you. I hope you're hungry, Dylan."

"Always." She smiled, but she had no intention of eating it. She already had eggs for breakfast a few hours ago. That was more than enough food for the day.

Joyce disappeared shortly after that, reminding them she was only downstairs if they needed anything.

The Latina leaned over, ignoring her stomach, handing Dylan her bowl. "Here. Eat."

Grasping it, the redhead said, "I could have gotten it. There was no need for you to -"

"Nah." Alicia brought a tiny spoonful of buttered stars to her mouth. "I'm fine."

"Barely," Dylan countered. "You're as pale as a ghost, kiddo."

She made a face. "I'm older than you. Don't call me that."

"By a _month_," Dylan pointed out. "But whatever. Not important. What were you saying before?"

Alicia chewed thoughtfully. "What do you mean?"

Dylan stirred her own food. "You were saying something and then Joyce walked in..."

"Oh. Right. I was just saying... I wish this would be over - the sickness, I mean. I don't think I'm going to school tomorrow."

"You don't sound too upset with that fact," the redhead murmured, now playing with her pastina, unable to bring herself to eat it.

Alicia sighed, resting her bowl on her lap. In the background, they could hear Jafar and his cronies throwing Aladdin into the sea. "I'm just - not very comfortable there."

"Neither am I," Dylan agreed. "It's like... I would rather deal with P. Burns and stupid girl drama than this. It's almost as if they're making us feel uncomfortable because they don't -"

" - want us there, yeah." Alicia nodded. "Especially me since..." She froze, eyes widening just a fraction of an inch, skin paling even more, if that were possible. Instead of continuing, she shoved another spoonful in her mouth.

Dylan furrowed her eyebrows. "Why you? I thought they'd love to have you there. You're so pretty and all the boys have crushes on you."

Alicia merely snorted in response.

"Leesh," the redhead began softly. "What's up?"

"They don't _all_ love me," was what she said. "I'd say only five do. And that's a rough estimate. I'm probably wrong."

"Are you joking? You're everybody's dream girl -"

Alicia hit her arm lightly. "I invited you over to watch movies and cuddle, not to give me a peptlak. We missed half of _Aladdin_, so shush and eat - I haven't seen you touch that at all."

Dylan shrugged. "Not very hungry now that I think about it."

"Eat it," Alicia ordered. "It's only pastina."

"I don't think that would be best." She nibbled on her lower lip, avoiding her friend's gaze. "I ate before I got here and -"

"You told me you had breakfast at nine. It's now almost one. It's time for lunch, Dyl."

The redhead didn't reply.

"Don' tell me you're still worried about your weight," Alicia continued, throwing her comforter off herself to change the DVD.

Dylan jumped up before she could even get out of bed. "Let me." She grabbed the movie at the top of the pile - _Tangled_ - and started to switch it, grateful she didn't have to look at - or be seen by - Alicia. Her guilt was most likely spelled right across her face.

That didn't stop the Latina from talking however.

"Because if it is, that's silly. You're a beautiful girl, Dylan, and it's a shame you can't see that."

Pressing play on the DVD player, Dylan plastered what she thought was a lighthearted grin on her face and turned. "Of course it's not about that, Leesh," she responded, slipping back under the light orange covers. "I'm just..." she pursed her lips, feeling rather defeated. "You know what? If it makes you feel any better, I'll eat, even thought I'm not hungry."

Alicia smiled at her, watching her fill her mouth with the food before her attention was captured fully by Rapunzel's tale.

Dylan didn't speak for a half an hour, watching the movie until it was appropriate for her to use the restroom without piquing Alicia's curiosity.

There, instead of relieving herself, she spit up her pastina, flushing it down the toilet.

She had never swallowed it in the first place.

* * *

><p>"If only the guys could see me now," Kemp muttered, milling about the mall, deliberating which of his mother's five favorite stores housed the perfect Christmas gift. They would get a kick out of seeing him, the self-proclaimed bad boy who took nobody's shit, attempting to buy his mother a present.<p>

Kemp loved her, though, and knew that, even now, he wasn't the easiest kid to raise. He acted out, said things he shouldn't, and Abigail Hurley still put a bottle of water and two Advils on his nightstand to help him after a night of partying. She deserved something other than his usual hastily picked scented candle and card. Since he had his own money, he could get her something else, something to thank her for all she's done. But where?

She was a big fan of picture frames and homemade gifts... so maybe he could find her something to house a collage of pictures...?

Kemp shuddered at his thoughts, not liking the mushy road he was starting to go down. He didn't like to focus on feelings - they showed weakness. For a guy who was so determined to be anything other than that, he liked to avoid anything personal.

Regardless, he walked into Bloomingdales, hoping that perhaps he could find something she had already expressed interest in. A bag, maybe, or - he didn't know - a scarf. She liked those.

He avoided salespeople, side-stepped a girl who wanted to spray him with cologne, and headed right into what could only be classified as "girl territory".

He could only imagine what his face looked like. It was not normal behavior for him to be here. He didn't really know what to do; he was stumped. _Extremely_ stumped.

Because of this, he didn't think twice to call the one person he knew would be able to help him.

She answered on the second ring. "Never thought I'd be happy to see your name on my Caller ID... What's up?"

"I don't know if I should be offended," he admitted, running his hand across a soft sweater. "What were you doing?"

"Dad's trying his hand at cooking, so we're searching our pantry for ingredients for something."

"Sucks. I need your help," Kemp told her. There was no use in creating small talk at this point. "Trying to find my mom a Christmas present."

She laughed. "And I was the one you call?"

Kemp wrinkled his nose at a pair of tiedyed pants. "You know what women like... don't you?"

"I know what _I_ like."

"That's good enough for me. Mass, please help. I can't do this."

A door closed on her end and Bean yipped in the background. "Okay... well, I love shoes, so -"

"Should I get her shoes, then?"

"You should get _me_ shoes," Massie quipped. "Does she like those?"

Kemp swallowed, punching the bridge of his nose. "I think so?"

"You don't sound so sure. How about bags?"

"She does have a whole collection of those..."

Massie hummed. "If she has a lot, maybe you shouldn't get her another."

"_Ugh_," Kemp groaned. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't worry. We can figure this out."

Her last word sounded thoughtful, so he remained quiet, allowing her to contemplate ideas. She was his best best, after all.

While she seemed to talk to herself, he walked around, hardly searching. He didn't know what to do. Would his mom like a watch? Did she even _wear _watches? Or how about a bracelet of some sort? Women liked jewelry, right? Kemp rubbed his forehead. Was shopping always this hard? How did people even like it?

After Massie decided against clothing, he looked up from the display of perfumes - how did he get back over here again? - just in time to see three familiar figures walk through the store and back into the mall.

"Hey, Mass, thanks for the help, but I think I've got it."

"Oh, really?" She sounded amused. "Care to share? I'd love to know."

Kemp's attention remained on Owen's back, however, and he shot after the trio, pushing and shoving various shoppers in his path.

"Kemp?"

He couldn't lose them. Not after what happened to Josh. It wasn't anything major, just enough to keep him on his toes, to remind him they were still there, waiting.

He might be a little obsessed, but he refused to let anyone out Josh when he wasn't ready.

"I'll show you later, bye," he responded, hanging up on her despite her confusion. He pocketed his phone, stopping dead when he couldn't find them again.

_Fuck_.

How could he have lost them? How could - _oh, oh, oh._ There they were. Walking right in to... Model's.

Kemp sped up, muttering apologies left and right before collecting himself. Taking a deep breath, he let out an exhale, gripped the door handle and, as nonchalantly as he could, he walked inside as if he were planning on purchasing some sporting goods.

Of course, Owen, James, and Keith were hanging about the lacrosse section. Kemp swallowed a snort, rolling his eyes at their behavior. No matter what they bought, they'd still suck as a team. There was no doubt about it.

Now sure where to go, he creeped closer to them, immersing himself in the brightly-colored athletic shorts, their roles floating towards them as they spoke.

" -ris Plovert thinks he's better than everyone else." That was Keith. "I wouldn't worry about the whole OCD thing. It'll fall through."

"Sounds unlikely." Owen now. "Don is going to wet himself over his determination. The rest of them are behind the plan anyway... and he threatened to make me leave."

"Then don't give him a reason to hold another election," Ridder ordered. "Be sneaky about it, but make the plan with OCD fail. That way, we can ruin two people instead of just one. And maybe - just maybe - we can get those stupid girls out of here too."

Kemp gritted his teeth, angrily (and accidentally) ripping the tags off a pair of shorts he would never think of buying. He _knew_ he hated those guys.

* * *

><p><em>Okay. If there's anyone you can tell, it's Mom.<em>

Josh clenched and unclenched his fist, peeking his head out from behind the corner. He felt weird hiding from his mother like this, but for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to step forward.

_No, seriously, _he thought,_ she won't judge you. She's Mom. She loves you._

"Instead of spying on me, why don't you come help me out?"

Shocked at the sound of her voice, Josh padded into plain sight. Gretchen hadn't looked up from her bowl. How had she known he was there?

"Don't act so surprised," she teased, looking up for the first time. "A mother always knows her child's whereabouts. And," she added when she noticed his creased eyebrows and thoughtful expression, "they know when somehing's bothering them. What's up, baby?"

Josh licked his lips, slowing coming over to sit across from her. She pushed her bowl to him, indicating with a nod of her head for him to start mising. He did so without arguing, using this as a time to collect his thoughts.

As long as he had been debating this, he was still frozen with fear at the prospect. His mother... she was perfect and she would never, ever give up on him... but knowing there was a slight chance she could turn away from him. It was all too much to handle.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Yeah."

"I like to think we have the kind of relationship where you aren't afraid to talk to me about things in your life."

Josh stirred and stirred. "We do."

But how could he tell her he liked boys? How could he indulge in the fact that he wasn't like other teenagers his age? He wasn't attracted to asses and chests and long and tinkling laughs...

The more he thought, the rougher he mixed.

He noticed muscles more - the way they were defined and how they looked in t-shirts. The way hair was messy and unkempt. Boyish features, deep voices, rumbling laughs.

He always spotted those, probably more often than he realized, but never took the time to consider it. It had taken a lot of time for him to become comfortable with this knowledge, to really acceot himself and the road he was about to embark on. Granted, he wasn't as ready as he hoped, and all he wanted was to talk to his mother. Sadly, he was scared of how this could end.

The horror stories he heard - parents abandoning their children, kicking them out - he didn't want that to happen to him. He didn't want to be alone, not when he needed all the support he could get.

"Josh, what's bugging you?"

He looked up into the eyes so like his own, debating turning around and running. He could convince her he was fine, right?

But he didn't want to.

His mouth opened on its own accord. "Um, Mom," he started, sitting on his shaky hands, "you told you would never judge me, right?"

"Of course."

"No matter what I told you?" Josh asked, wishing his heart would stop beating so much. "You wouldn't get angry and... I dunno, leave -"

Gretchen placed her hand on his shoulder, her touch warming him. "Josh..."

"Promise me, please," he begged. "I need to know you won't hate me or feel disgusted by me or -"

"Honey, honey," she smoothed, gentle fingers against his cheeks. "Tell me what's making you feel this way."

"Mom, I think... I think I might be g-"

"Gretchen, Josh, Kayla, I'm home!"

His father's voice made him freeze, the word on the tip of his tongue, unable to come out. He couldn't say it now, not when his father was home, in the vicinity to hear what he was about to confess. He might be his own flesh and blood, but Josh did not trust Anthony Hotz.

He heard him come closer to the kitchen, felt him walk in, casually glance at them, as Gretchen asked him to tell her what was wrong.

Anthony's eyes were on him. He felt itchy and exposed, almost like he were choking on air. He couldn't, he couldn't, _he couldn't_ -

"Your mother asked you a question, Joshua," Anthony's voice was hard, cold.

Gretchen shot him a look, but it was obviously ignored for he kept going. "It's rude to keep someone waiting, especially if that someone is your mother. Is it not?"

"Anthony, maybe you should give us some privacy..."

"No," he returned, opening and closing the fridge. "You've captured my attention now. Go ahead, Josh, tell us."

"_Anthony_," Gretchen snapped, "you're not making this any easier for him. _Leave_."

There were no retreating footsteps. He was there to stay.

Josh swallowed roughly, eyes trained to the floor.

"Just pretend he's not there," his mom whispered. "It'll be okay."

"Um, I... I just wanted to tell you that I - I - I think I might - think I - uh, think - or maybe know - um -"

Anthony sighed, sharply. "Spit it out, goddammit."

"_Anthony_!"

"No, I..." Josh cleared his throat, looked around the kitchen and blurted, "I don't like chocolate anymore."

Gretchen faltered and he hoped she'd play along - that lie was _awful_ - and breathed a sigh of relief when she started to speak. "Oh, that's not a big deal, honey. I'll just put vanilla frosting on the cake instead. You're not hurting my feelings."

Josh forced a smile and nodded, jumping off the bar stool to leave the room. His father refused to move out of his way, causing Josh to slide past him, bumping into him in the process.

"Watch it," Anthony growled.

His son merely muttered a meek apology, quickly speeding out of there and into his bedroom.

* * *

><p>The Westchester Market was not what she anticipated. Like everything else in this town, she was prepared to view something majestic, top of the line, and glamorous. Instead, it was exactly like any other supermarket - not that she ever stepped foot in one - with aisles and aisles of packaged foods, veggies, and fruits. It was plain, simple. Massie didn't feel like she belonged.<p>

"Okay, so we need some chicken cutlets, golden mushroom soup, and marsala."

She glanced over at her father, realizing that if she didn't feel comfortable, he was probably the same way. With his rolled-up dress shirt, pushing a cart around, and holding a list, William just looked... lost.

"Why can't Inez just make it?" she questioned, aware she was starting to sound like a spoiled brat. She was even getting odd looks for her Rock & Republic jeans. They were apparently not as "Sunday grocery shopping" as she had hoped. "We don't fit in here, Dad."

"It's only you and me, kiddo," he replied, standing in the middle of the store, a look of absolute confusion upon his face. "We should start doing things as a family."

Massie sighed. "We could do things as a family even if Inez made dinner. There's nothing wrong with having a maid."

"When I was a kid, I used to spend every Sunday with my family, cooking dinner. I shopped, I cut vegetables... it's time we create some traditions. We've gone too long without."

"_Dad_ -"

William ignored her whine. "Go look for his cooking wine, alright? Meet me by the poultry when you find it." And then he was gone, pushing his cart to the cold selection of meats.

Massie huffed, refraining from stomping her foot in the beginning of a "rich girl temper tantrum". Her father was all she had now. The least she could do was act appropriately and respect his wishes.

Swallowing her pride, she looked up at the signs, trying to find what he needed. The complaints were trying to forcing their way out of her closed lips, but she refused to allow them to leave, instead focusing on the words above her head. Things were going to change around the Block house, she knew that; she had to let it happen.

Cereal, candy, snacks, popcorn.

Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, water.

Salad dressing, soup, pasta -

She stopped, wondering if the marsalsa or whatever it was called could be found down here. Without really knowing, Massie turned, investigating the stands. There was ranch, caesar, bleu cheese; long pasta, circular, ziti; cooking sherry, white wine, marsala -

Feeling victorious, Massie reached a skinny arm to grab the item, discovering as she did so that she was far too short to get it.

"I definitely wore the wrong shoes today," she muttered, glaring at her beyond cute flats. Why had she thought to dress down? Heels were _always _a good idea. Not only were they good looking, they provided her the height she needed to get through every day tasks, such as this one.

There had to be another way to get this bottle that did not require her to scale the shelves. A stool or something? Others had to be her size...

This was why she did not go food shopping. She knew there had to be a reason.

"Need some help there, Block?"

She blinked, turning as calmly as she could. She didn't want him to know he had this effect on her. She was _not _scared easily, thank you very much. He just caught her off-guard, that's all. That had to be the reason her heart was pounding so erratically at the sound of his voice.

"A little," she replied. "Turns out I'm not -"

" - that tall?" Derrick finished for her. "I noticed. Don't worry, I got it."

She watched him merely lift his arm, grabbing the bottle's neck. Her eyes, though, were not trained on his actual actions, per se, but the stomach that was soon exposed as his shirt followed him to mimick his movements. Was he _always_ so defined or was this new?

To her - odd - disappointment, his abs were covered in seconds and he faced her again, replacing the lovely view with his sandy hair and killer smile. Massie wanted to stab him repeatedly. It was like he _knew_ that was her weakness: Cute boys with even cuter smiles.

"Here you go, milady."

"Thanks," she murmured, taking it from him. At the very last second, his fingers brushed against hers and she felt a heat race through her arm. She wondered if he got the same reaction from her touch, looking up at him with her eyes bigger than usual. He, however, seemed totally normal, not as if a whole onslaught of emotions surged through his body.

She swallowed roughly, forcing herself to look peppy and happy, all the while cursing herself for thinking he'd be going through the same thing as her. It had been months since they dated, since there would be any lingering feelings, and obviously Derrick had moved on. She had too... but apparently not enough.

He finger-brushed his hair - it was getting too long - out of his face. "No problem. Uh... not that I'm being judgmental or anything, but what are you doing here?" With his teeth pressed into his lower lip, a sign that he was curious but not in the mood to start a fight, he added, "I never thought I'd see you in a supermarket, Block."

_Stop it_, she wanted to say, but then she realized, on top of everything else, how stupid she was being. It was her _last name_, for crying out loud. People called her that all the time to grab her attention. Just because it was coming out of his mouth didn't mean anything. It was just something he was used to doing. It didn't prove anything.

Not that she wanted it to prove anything, of course.

"Um..." _What was she doing here?_ Why couldn't she remember? "Uh, my dad wanted to cook."

Derrick grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Will wants to cook?"

Massie tucked her bangs behind her ear, nodding tentatively. "He told me before that it's about 'creating traditions' or something."

"That's going to be... quite exciting."

"Hopefully we don't burn the house down," she commented lightly. "What are _you_ doing here, though?"

His facial expression looked slightly annoyed, but he shrugged regardless of that fact. "Sam and Patrick are home, so Mom forced us - and by us, I mean me and Sam - to pick up supplies for cookies or something. She wants to make us fat, basically."

The brunette giggled. "That sounds like fun though."

"If you think fun is sitting around my dinner table while Sammi tries to keep everyone from slitting each other's throats, you're right."

"It can't be _that_ bad," Massie argued. "I'd love to have a sibling. It gets lonely being the only child."

"You can have one of mine," Derrick suggested. "Take Patrick. He'd get along with your dad."

"I was kidding."

"Yeah, I wouldn't really give you him anyway. He's an asshole."

"Must run in the family then," Massie teased.

Derrick's jaw dropped, his cheeks coloring ever so slightly. "I'm not _that_ bad," he defended, leaning over to ruffle her hair. He pulled back, looking a little confused at his actions, but recovered quickly enough to start up again: "Have you spoken to Alicia?"

"I speak to her every day, Derrick."

"Okay, that was a stupid question," he thought aloud, furrowing his brows. "What I meant was... have you talked about the Danny situation? Like, has she told you personally yet?"

Massie sighed, shaking her head. "She hasn't come forward yet. I thought she would after a few months, but I think... I think she's really trying to forget it ever happened."

"That's probably not very good for her," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want her to think she's completely alone."

"She's not," Massie told him. She placed her hand on his bicep before she could think twice, squeezing reassuringly. His abs were not the only things to change about him... She refused to let go, determined to prove to herself Derrick Harrington was nothing but a really nice to look at. "She knows you've got her back. Like I said weeks ago, I'm not going to force her to tell me anything if she doesn't want to. She'll tell me eventually, even if it's years from now."

Derrick bit down on his lip again, glancing from her fingers to her face repeatedly. "It's going to eat her up inside, Massie."

The way he said her name - almost as if he were so defeated at the prospect of Alicia not being happy - made her insides twist. What did Alicia have that she didn't? Why did he care so much about _her_ and not Massie? They were practically the same person and yet he chose her best friend. She knew Alicia would never go after him based solely on the fact that he was "sloppy seconds" and she detested those, but it still hurt her deeply.

It shouldn't, she tried to convince herself. Alicia needed Derrick as this type of friend. It wasn't like she was upset Josh was basically always by Massie's side when she was around him. It was fine. Whatever.

Let it go.

"I know," she said, voice softer than usual. "She _will_ tell me, Derrick. I know her. She needs to know I won't leave -"

"Then show her you won't." He took a step forward, their bodies closer than they had been in months. "_Please_."

"Why do you want her to tell me so much?"

She avoided eye contact, staring at the symbol on his shirt - she wasn't sure what it was - until the gentle pads of his fingertips pushed her chin up, her amber gaze meeting his brown. "Because I'd tell you if I had a problem. _I_ trust you."

"Oh," she replied lamely, wanting nothing more than to fidget under his intense stare. Her body, though, wouldn't move, no matter what her brain said. And it was telling her to _go, go, go_. "That's... uh, very -"

Her breath hitched in her throat when he brushed the side of his thumb against her cheek, her stumbling sentence trailing off into nothingness. "Uh, why did you do that?"

He was closer now. So close that the alarms in her mind were going off at an alarmingly loud volume, yelling at her to get her ass out of this situation. "You had an eyelash," he told her with a twitch of his lips. "See?"

"Uh." Massie cleared her throat, not liking how she could feel the heat radiating off his body, and especially not enjoying the way her own seemed to want to mold into him. "Yeah. That was... thanks?"

"Do you want to know a secret?"

_No, not really. Please leave, I want to throw up -_

"S-sure."

_You did not just stutter, Massie Block. What _happened _to you?_

"It's pretty personal. Do you think you're up for it?"

"Yep." _No_.

"Okay." He was touching her again, this time with both of his hands. She felt trapped, unable to move. "Well, I still -"

"_DERRICK_!" Sammi Harrington's boisterous voice shouted from somewhere near by. "_WHERE ARE YOU_?"

Massie never thought she'd be so happy to hear that girl yell through a crowded supermarket, but holy crap, she was. The way Derrick's eyes seemed to darken in just the slightest way and how she could legitimately _feel_ him: His breath, his movements... it was making her more than a little anxious. _  
><em>

He didn't move, though, not when she thought he would. He kept his position, staring right at her before murmuring in this deep, throaty voice she had never heard: "I gotta go."

"I know," she replied, continuing to stare up at him.

If she had blinked a second later, she would have missed the confusion - and was that doubt? - flash through his eyes, but she caught it. It meant nothing to her, however, for she couldn't place the reason for it. She wanted to say something, but couldn't figure out what words to choose. Not even a second later, he was back to normal (or as normal as he had been before), flashing her a smile and surprising her by wrapping her in a hug.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her arms stuck to her sides. Moving was _not_ an option right now. She thought she vaguely felt a pressure on the top of her head, something quick and light right on top of her wavy brunette locks.

His arms - and his smell - left her as quickly as it came, a "bye" escaping his lips before he was trotting down the aisle, turning left and disappearing. Not once did he turn to look at her, to offer up some kind of explanation for his behavior, and Massie was glad. Any more time around him and she would have melted into a puddle right on the ground.

Or worse: she would've dropped this bottle of marsala in her hand - she was shocked she hadn't already - and that would be embarrassing times ten.

* * *

><p><em>Thunk.<em>

Seriously, what the hell was he thinking?

_Thunk, thunk._

What had come over him that made him almost blurt out his best-kept secret?

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

Just because she was there and he was there... it didn't mean he should've gotten cocky the way he had. Seeing her didn't mean anything about their relationship. They were still nothing more than friends (sort of); she was still dating (sort of) Cam and he was still with (sort of) Olivia. Why was everything about their lives defined as _sort of_? Couldn't something be definite? If one of them just had a solid reason to not be with each other, he'd stop. Really. He wouldn't look at her long than he should have or try everything in his power to get her to talk to him.

Josh told him he was being pathetic. Kemp didn't care. Plovert spent most of his time trying to fix Briarwood's budget mess, but made an offhand comment about his "obsession" being a little creepy, even if his tastes - whatever _that_ meant. Cam... Cam couldn't know. Not when they were finally back to kidding around with each other the way the used to.

_Thunk, thunk. _

He just needed her to make Cam _it_. The boyfriend. They needed labels or Derrick would never stop. And everyone knew he would not make Olivia anything other than his very helpful friend with benefits.

_Thunk. _

He sighed angrily. At least he hadn't told her anything. He almost had. That would've been _bad_. Like, move-away-and-never-speak-again bad. Her reaction spoke more than her words had, but he didn't want to act on anything. He could've imagined the whole thing. Could've imagined her freaking out, staring at him like he needed to get far, far away because she still liked him.

For all he knew, she was staring at him like that because he pissed her off. He had no idea.

_Thunk, thun - _

_Crash._

"Derrick _Andrew!_" His mother shouted. "You better not be playing soccer in the house again!"

He shot up when footsteps stomped up the stairs, leaping from his bed to toss his soccer ball back into his closet and clean up the (now broken) lamp that was on his floor. Whoever was coming sounded angry and he was not in the mood to get shoved around by his father.

Closet doors shut, Derrick flung himself on the ground, picking up the pieces of glass, wincing when he cut himself on a particularly sharp piece. Red blood oozed from his injury, a sticky liquid he wiped on the side of his jeans, ignoring the sting as he continued to clean his mess. _Of course_ he had to break it into the tiniest of all pieces.

His bedroom door swung open in the midst of him sucking his index finger, and he froze, prepared to hear the irritated voice of James Harrington.

"Figured you broke something."

Instead, he got his annoying sister.

He guessed she was better than his lunatic of a father.

"Ya think?" he snapped, aborting the mission and sitting on the edge of his bed again. He could clean up later. It wasn't like anyone else was going to come interrogate him about the sound. No one cared _that_ much.

He dropped his head in his hands, staring moodily down at the carpet, resuming his previous activity of feeling stupid.

Why was he so hung up on a girl that could care less about him? _He_ dumped_ her_. Not the other way around. It didn't make sense for him to want to strangle Cam every time he touched her or so much as made her laugh. If she only knew why he had done that, why he had ended a perfectly good relationship... It didn't matter at this point. Nothing did. She only saw him as a semi-friend, one who was linked to her because of his fondness for Alicia.

He was an idiot, plain and simple.

(An idiot that wished he had a time machine - he had no idea he'd feel _this_ shitty - but an idiot nonetheless.)

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sammi asked, brushing her cold fingers against his sweaty forehead. He had no idea she was still there.

"No," he grumbled, letting her coddle over him anyway. It felt nice to have someone other than his mother worry about him. And for some reason, she acted so maternal it was comforting.

His bangs were pushed out of his face and the mattress suddenly became lighter as she stood. An odd feeling of wanting her to return settled in the pit of his stomach. As much as he wanted to be alone, he didn't. He didn't want to talk. He just wanted to sit there with his sister and, well, mope. Sammi had a funny way of helping him get through mini crises.

His door closed again, clicking quietly behind her. Her body heat returned. Sammi wordlessly pulled his hand away from his face, wrapping his finger in a band-aid. So fucking maternal.

"It's the Hulk," she told him like he cared. "I looked for Iron Man but we ran out."

For the first time, he lifted his head to stare at her, eyebrows crinkled - not in confusion - but in a way that could only be described as _are you fucking kidding me_? _  
><em>

Sammi smiled briefly. "You love it. Shut up."

He coughed. "I didn't say anything."

"You thought it."

"Whatever."

"You can't sit here and be all depressed, D," she told him, rubbing her thumb against his face. "And you got blood on your cheek."

Derrick snorted. "Fucking figures."

"Watch your language," she berated, squeezing his face in between her palms. She said nothing else, leaning into him to kiss his forehead. Derrick closed his eyes briefly at her touch.

"You act older than you really are, Sam."

"I watched Patrick screw up many times, Derrick," she reminded him, smoothing his hair out for the umpteenth time. "I don't want to see you do it too."

He sighed. "You're about six months too late for that one."

"Is it about that girl I saw you with in the pasta aisle?"

"You - you _saw_ that?"

Now all he wanted to do was burrow under his covers and never return.

Sammi smiled at him. "I didn't want to interrupt until necessary," she admitted. "And... well, what's the deal with that? That _is_ why you're upset, right?"

Derrick crossed his arms over his chest, staring blankly at the floor again. "We used to date. Now we don't."

"And you're still into her. Is that it?"

"_I _dumped her, Sammi. I don't - _why_ do I have to be the one all torn up about it? She's..." He swallowed. "Not."

"It's not your fault she feels like that and you feel a different way," his older sister murmured, "but there's nothing wrong with you. I can promise you that."

He sniffed in disbelief. "I think there is. Especially since she's so quick to move on and I'm stuck in what feels like a freakin' standstill."

"You don't have to keep it all bottled up, Derrick. It's not going to be good when you finally explode." Sammi moved again, this time sitting in a pretzel, facing him. "Tell me. I have no knowledge of the situation. I can only base it on what _you_tell me."

Derrick licked his lips, slowly mimicking her position. He felt like such a girl, ready to, like, he didn't know, gossip about boys or something equally stupid. "I dumped her and she hooked up with Cam."

"Fisher?"

"Do you know any other Cams?"

"Uh... not in Westchester." Sammi pursed her lips. "He hooked up with your ex-girlfriend?"

"Yes," Derrick groaned, "and he _knew_, Sammi, he fucking _knew_ I still liked her. But he went after it anyway! Who the fuck _does_ that?"

Sammi clasped her hands in front of her. "Okay, slow down. Cam - your best friend - hooked up with your ex-girlfriend... who I'm guessing is Massie?"

"Yeah. That's it."

"And she was the one who was in the supermarket?"

He nodded silently, back to his moping. Such an idiot. He was _such an idiot_.

Sammi smiled, again touching him like she was his mother. "I'm gonna tell you something, but I don't want to get your hopes up or anything, alright?"

"I highly doubt my hopes can be lifted right now."

"From what I saw - and keep in mind, it wasn't much and I was at a horrific angle - the reaction she gave you when you were doing whatever you were doing..." She paused, choosing her words carefully as to not hurt him even more. "Well, she didn't look like someone would if they were over you."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Just... don't be so surprised if she's not as in to Cam as you think she is." She hopped off the bed, holding her hand out. "Come. It's time for dinner."


	31. thirty

I am sososo sorry this took so long to get out! College has been so hectic (in a good way) and this was actually pretty difficult to write. I was so stuck for what felt like weeks and I'm still not happy with the way this came out, but I have some good plotlines and plans for the upcoming chapter. Harris' party should make a bunch of you happy and Plovert's student council stuff is for good bonding between the boys and the girls (:

I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner! I promise.

* * *

><p>"How about we don't go and say we did?" she begged, pulling the woven quilt her grandmother sent her for her fourteenth birthday tighter around her cold body. Something about it always calmed her nerves, but right now, she was feeling everything but relaxed. "I'm pretty sure I have a stomach virus, so…"<p>

Dean sighed patiently—as always—stopping the car at a red light. "Alicia, your mother asked me to take you to the doctor and I'm going to respect her wishes. Besides," he paused, glancing over his shoulder, "you look like hell, honey. And I mean that in the nicest way."

The Latina pouted, leaning her head against the window. "Thanks," she muttered. "You know I don't like the doctor, Dean. Please don't make me go."

"I want to see you get better," her driver—but she considered him more of an uncle than anything else—told her. "This will help. I promise."

"Do you think they're gonna give me a shot?" she wondered, pressing her teeth into her bottom lip, nibbling on the flesh with worry. "Shots _scare_ me."

Her heart started to speed up as her surroundings started to become familiar; the pediatrician's office was so close now and she wanted to unlock the door and run. A part of her could actually do that if she really wanted to, but the more reasonable side wanted to listen to Dean, to believe him, because he was right. She knew he was, too, and yet, she wanted to escape more than she wanted anything… even that limited edition Ralph Lauren she had her eyes on for months.

"Not that I'm aware of…" Dean answered. "You had your shots last year, I believe. Besides, you're sick. They don't normally give sick patients shots."

Alicia slumped into her seat, a bit relieved that she didn't need to get a needle in her arm. Other than that, though, she was still borderline terrified. Everyone knew how much she hated the doctor. Not that she hated her doctor specifically; he was really nice and he made her laugh, but sometimes she kicked him… Or when she was getting her Strep test, she bit his hand…

Which was normal, okay? What if he dropped the little swab and she choked and died? It was a completely rational thought! She was scared for her _life_!

"Dean, I don't want to go," she spit out hurriedly. The car was turning into the parking lot for the building. Her hands were starting to sweat. She felt nauseous (more so than usual). No. No. No. "Get out of the parking lot. I don't need to go. I feel fine. Yay. Let's go to school."

Dean just so happened to go deaf, of course, and didn't make any sort of notion that he even heard her speak. He pulled the vehicle into a spot, killing the engine, and Alicia felt her knees start to hit against each other, her lower body shaking with nerves.

She _hated_ the doctor.

Well, maybe not hate. She was scared of the doctor. Of the way it smelled and the shots and crying babies…

Her racing thoughts were interrupted by her ringing phone; she grabbed it quickly, grateful for the distraction from her wild imagination. Why did she always think of the worst when she came to the doctor?

**DERRICK**: I know you hate the doctor so I figured I'd text you to see how it was going

An unusual sensation pricked at the back of her eyes and Alicia smiled, biting down on her lower lip. She had always thought Derrick was an immature, annoying kid, but surprisingly enough, he listened to her when she spoke and genuinely cared about what she was feeling. It was nice that someone other than Massie, Kristen, and Dylan knew how much she disliked going near anything that might make her feel better.

**ALICIA**: we just pulled in and I was about to pull a hissy fit because I don't want to go in ):

**DERRICK**: it won't take long and you'll feel better once they give you antibiotics for whatever you have… if they have antibiotics for it cuz if you have a stomach virus they don't

**ALICIA**: fabulous

**DERRICK**: it's going to be fine! Mom made you cookies last night so I'll come over after school and give them to you

**ALICIA**: aw mom!

**DERRICK**: so get your ass in that doctor's office or you're not getting any

It was silly how he could completely erase all of her fears, but she guessed that's what best friends did. Or maybe it was just because he was a boy and she felt safer than she had in a long time with him. Although their friendship started off in a weird fashion, she couldn't remember what it was like to not have him by her side. Derrick always had her back. Without him, she would probably be in so much deep shit.

"Okay, Dean," she said, "let's go."

He turned around, eyes meeting hers. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes." She nodded. "If we think about it too much right now, I'll never go in."

He pushed his door open and she did the same—she hated when he opened hers for her. She could do it herself. "Think about it this way, kiddo. They're going to tell you what's wrong with you and you'll be able to go back to bed."

"Right." Alicia swallowed, keeping a nice grip on her blanket.

"And maybe you'll even get the room with the giraffes on the walls."

"I love giraffes," Alicia agreed, stepping into the lobby of the building. The elevator was right across from the doors. She watched Dean press the button for the third floor and waiting, her stomach churning.

She really wished she could be brave about this, but there was just something about the doctor that freaked her out. It was sad considering she was fifteen years old, but… there was no changing who she was. Maybe one day she'd be able to get over it.

"I know." Dean squeezed her hand reassuringly. When had she grabbed his? "When it gets nicer out, I'll take you to the zoo."

"Really?"

"Of course. We'll make a day out of it."

Alicia beamed as the doors to the elevator opened and she was face to face with the brightly colored pediatrician's office. _Scooby Doo_ was playing on the television, small children were in the play area, and parents were flipping through magazines. Her heart skipped a few beats, but she ignored it and went to sit down.

Dean let go of her hand to tell the receptionist she was here and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She could do this. She could do this. _She could do this_.

Oh, how she wished she could believe herself.

Silently, Dean sat beside her. "You'll come in with me, right?" she asked him, fingers tightening around the blanket again. It was warm. It was comforting.

"Yes."

It wasn't even ten minutes into Scooby and the gang solving their mystery that she heard name being called. Dean got to his feet and she quickly scrambled after him, her heart in her throat. It was her turn.

She didn't like how scared she was, but she could never calm herself down.

All they were going to do was check her out and see why she was feeling yucky. That was it. It wasn't like she was getting surgery… but what if she needed it? What if she was _dying_? Oh my god, she could be dying and—

"We're going to room four, I think," the nurse told her. She led them through the maze of the office, walking right into the room next to what looked like a bathroom. The little plate on the door had a big four drawn on it…

Dean nudged her lightly, nodding at the walls of the room.

Alicia followed his gaze, feeling herself calm slightly. Giraffes. She was in the giraffe room. Good. Something about that already made her feel at ease.

"Hop up right there, Alicia, and please tell me your birthday."

She did as she was told, settling on the paper seat cover. "September twenty-second, nineteen ninety-seven."

"Good. Now, what brings you here today?"

Alicia covered herself in her blanket again before responding: "I'm dying."

The nurse chuckled. "I hope you aren't."

"Well, it feels like it." Alicia frowned. "I have the chills and then I get really hot and I throw up all the time and the small of my back hurts and I have a headache."

All of her symptoms were jotted down. The nurse took her temperature—which was normal—put her folder in the little holder on the door and told her the doctor would be with her in a moment.

This left Dean and Alicia alone, but she was too busy looking at the carefully drawn giraffes to even worry about that. It was odd that the animal made her feel better but it was a good thing, too, since she wasn't going to cry or throw up all over herself.

Sometimes, Alicia wondered if she were really a five year old. She acted like it more often than not.

"I don't see you very often," her usual doctor spoke, striding into the room. "How is everything?"

Dr. Friedman sat in the spinning chair, flipping through the collective notes of Alicia's various sicknesses. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, strands of blond hair framing her face. Every time the young girl came to get a checkup or something, she always thought her doctor was too pretty to be in this profession. She should be a model.

"Besides the fact that I'm dying, it's good."

"Great. Now, looking through your notes here… are there certain times of the day that any of these things happen?"

Alicia bit her bottom lip as she thought about it, looking down at her feet. She hated making direct eye contact here. "The headache comes and goes, really, and once my chills are covered with a blanket and I start to get used to it, I get hot—but I throw up a lot when I first wake up and then it goes away until the next day…"

This was taken down as well. "Have you been eating?"

"Yes. I have toast and soup. And tea sometimes."

"Do these things stay down?"

"It depends on when I eat them," Alicia answered honestly. "If it's after about twelve, then yes."

After a body check—where Alicia winced as her stomach was prodded—Dean was asked to leave the room so Dr. Friedman could ask some personal, feminine questions.

Being alone made Alicia very antsy. Why couldn't he stay? She didn't have anything to hide.

Except…

No. She was trying to forget that ever happened.

"I want you to answer these as if I'm not someone older than you, okay?" her doctor asked. "I will not judge you. I will not think any less of you. I just need honest answers or else we are never going to get anywhere. Okay?"

Alicia nodded mutely. She wasn't going to like this. She could tell.

"Have you ever drank alcohol?"

"Just experimented," she told her, feeling her cheeks heat up. "I don't really like it." _Lie_.

"Binge drank?"

"No. I just have, like, two and I'm okay. I drink them slowly too so no one can say I'm not having anything, you know?" _Another lie_. It was hard to talk about this, though. Her doctor, no matter what she said, would judge her anyway.

And she really didn't want to tell her that she liked to lose control the way she did.

"Have you ever done drugs?"

"Oh, god, _no_!" Alicia squealed. "No, thank you. Never."

Dr. Friedman laughed. "Good. That's not good for anyone."

"I would never," the Latina told her. "Really. I just—ew."

"Sexual intercourse?"

Alicia's heart started to pound in her chest so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it. She was trying to forget that ever happened and… she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the bile that was rising to go back down.

"Yes," she whispered. "I wish I didn't, but…"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Alicia," Dr. Friedman told her quietly. "No one is going to think of you any other way."

_They already do_, Alicia thought bitterly, crossing her arms.

"When was the last time you had your period?"

Alicia thought back, frowning when she realized she couldn't quite place when she got it last. Was it this month? No… she should have gotten it last week…

_Oh my god_.

Her eyes widened. No. This wasn't happening. Surely she had her period this month. If not, she had it last month, right? But… she couldn't remember if she got it in November…

Oh my god. Oh my god.

"I… don't remember," she muttered, focusing her gaze on the ground. "I think it was in September…"

But that was normal, right? It had to be. Dr. Friedman told her so…

"Alicia—"

"No," the girl interrupted. "You told me I have an irregular flow because of the dance and gymnastics classes I take! I miss my period all the time and—"

When her doctor didn't automatically look convinced, the panic started to set in. The room started to spin; the walls were starting to cave in. Her vision got blurry from the frightful tears that were about to escape. There were three Dr. Friedmans, not just one.

Alicia was going to puke.

Oh my _god_.

"Alicia…"

"No!" she shrieked, uncaring of her loud voice. "You _told_ me!"

"I did, Alicia, but have you been dancing lately?"

"No, classes don't start up again until after Christmas…"

"Did you use a condom when you had intercourse?"

Spinning. Spinning. Spinning. Spinning.

"I…" What was going on? Where were the giraffes? Why… "I don't know."

Her doctor touched her arm lightly. "We're going to have to take some blood tests, Alicia."

"I want to go home."

"Alicia, please—"

"_I want to go home_," the Latina reiterated. "I don't want to be here. I'm not… whatever you're trying to suggest, which I know you are because I can tell—I'm not."

Dr. Friedman stood. "Then these tests will prove that. Please, Alicia. I just want to make sure."

Her light eyes were wide as she stared at the young girl and Alicia faltered. It would be better to be sure but that would only mean she was thinking the same way as Dr. Friedman was.

She wasn't pregnant.

Her doctor was suggesting she was.

And she wasn't.

No. Not in a million years. She was fifteen years old. She made a mistake and that's all it was. A mistake. She had a stomach virus or the flu. Not an unborn baby in her womb. She didn't have to take these tests to prove that. She'd rather get a shot.

"I'm not pregnant," Alicia croaked. "I'm not."

"Okay." Her doctor nodded. "I believe you. I just want to check."

Alicia pulled at her blanket, pressing her teeth into her bottom lip. "You won't tell Dean why we're going to the lab, will you?"

"Confidentiality, sweetie." Her hair was smoothed down in a way only a mother would touch. "I'll tell him we're running precautionary tests to make sure you don't have mono or anything else like that."

"Okay," Alicia agreed. "Will it hurt?"

"It's only a pinch, my dear. The rest is just discomfort."

Swallowing harshly, Alicia nodded, padding out silently after her doctor, wishing for the umpteenth time in her life that she was someone else.

* * *

><p>"But <em>Plovert<em>—"

"No buts. This is happening whether you like it or not."

"This is not a monarchy, it's fucking _student council_—"

Chris sighed loudly, focusing all of his attention on the hall before him versus the irritating kid beside him. He knew it would have been hard to go about his plan without speaking to his vice president of all people, but he honestly wished he never had to work with Owen ever again. All he did was complain, complain, complain. It didn't even matter what it was about; he always had a point of view against _something_.

"I'm aware, Owen," he said exasperatedly, "but right now, we're in debt and the girls of OCD agreed to meet with me this weekend to discuss plans to get us back where we're supposed to be. And honestly, I don't care how you feel about it. You may think girls are below you, but I don't."

"Plovert." His name was spat out in a long hiss, but this did not bother the teen.

"I'm not afraid of you, Crawford. You might think you're terrifying, but truth be told, you're not even on my radar. If you don't like the plan, I've said this a thousand times: _quit_."

Owen stomped his foot in the beginning of a temper tantrum Chris had seen his sisters perform various times. "I'm not going to quit so people like you can turn this school to shit."

"Then stay," Chris replied, almost as if he hadn't heard the very end of the sentence. "That doesn't mean you're going to like it."

Just as he was about to turn into his classroom, Owen grabbed his elbow roughly, stopping him from entering.

Chris met his gaze, narrowing his eyes. "_Don't_ touch me," he snapped, pulling his arm back, feeling particularly satisfied when Owen stumbled slightly.

Still, that didn't seem to stop him. "Listen," the other boy whispered harshly. "You're going to regret this. Every part of it."

"Threaten me all you want. There's nothing you can do about it. Briarwood will be working with OCD and you'll have to deal. And I'm seriously going to consider holding another election because you are getting on my last nerve."

Owen scoffed. "We'll see about that."

Chris quirked an eyebrow. "That we will." And with that, deciding he was done with this conversation, he marched into his classroom, making sure to slam the door just a bit more loudly than he would before.

Shuffling away from the scene, he threw himself into his usual seat next to Kristen, who looked up at him curiously.

"You look…" she paused, nibbling on her bottom lip. "Tired."

"Exhausted," he agreed. "Speaking of that… is there a reason I was asked if I could also take on Todd Lyons for tutoring? I thought he was yours."

The blonde sighed deeply. "I've got a lot on my plate right now and I just can't handle tutoring as well. I didn't think they'd want _you _to do it, but I… I just can't."

Chris wanted to say something—like _I can't do it either, you're not the only one with so much to do_—but couldn't find it in himself to say anything that would force Todd back upon Kristen. The look on her face, the bags beneath her eyes, and the limpness of her hair were enough to keep him silent. He might have taken on more than he could, but at least he was keeping himself together. He had almost forgotten a big part of Kristen's inability to function very well was due in large part to her being one of the only girls in Briarwood.

So, instead of being a complete dick, he nodded in understanding. "I'm sure I could squeeze him in somewhere… as long as I don't have to deal with Derrick when his math grades start to drop again."

Kristen forced a smile. "Don't worry, I got him. I'll make sure he's a B-average by the end of the year."

"Oh, I'm not worried about him," Chris corrected, "I just can't stand his whining."

She laughed, her nose crinkling adorably. "He _is_ a bit dramatic."

"A bit?" he echoed. "That's an understatement."

Kristen shrugged. "I wouldn't really know," she explained. "But, anyway, did you get ahold of OCD's student council? I gave Allie-Rose a call…"

This subject sent a bolt of electricity through Chris. This was something he wanted to talk about, not tutoring. Although Owen wasn't as on board as everyone else, he was excited about combining forces with the sister school. A lot of good could come from it. After all, girls were more organized than boys could ever be.

"Yes," he said and from the look on Kristen's face, he obviously scared her with his enthusiasm. "We're supposed to get together tonight, actually. They said they had some ideas they wanted to throw by me."

"Good." Kristen smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I was hoping they'd be up for it."

"They are." Chris nodded. "Thank you for doing this."

The teacher flicked the lights off and the loud conversation of the students around him silenced significantly. While the instructions for the video they were about to watch were written on the board, he heard Kristen whisper: "Anytime."

* * *

><p>Massie wanted to shoot herself. Literally.<p>

Being dead would be so much better than having to see Derrick's face every day at twelve thirty. Luckily she managed to avoid him by not sharing a single class with him, but there was no avoiding lunch. She had to eat—even if she really didn't—and somehow or another (she still couldn't figure out when it happened… or _why_), the boys dubbed the Pretty Committee's table theirs as well.

And it seemed as if as of late Derrick was really into sitting across from her… and engaging in conversation. _Lots_ of conversation. About things that didn't matter. The weather. The fact that her headband perfectly matched her tie. How the chicken tasted weird (and that day, she hadn't had the chicken and he _fed it to her_).

He needed to go away.

Or she needed to be dead.

Ending her own life seemed a lot easier than trying to make him disappear, so she hoped she could find a way to kill herself. It could be painful, it didn't really matter. She just needed to be gone.

So did his irritatingly cute smile, my God.

Massie averted her gaze, focusing on the plate of food in front of her. She wasn't very interested in it; she felt like she could hardly eat what with everything that was going on around her.

Every time Derrick looked at her, his lips quirked in that half-grin thing he always did, and that made her feel awful about everything. Alicia wasn't in school due to a doctor's appointment and it wasn't like she could talk to her about anything while she was there.

"Oh, guys, I've been meaning to tell you—" Cam started, shocking Massie out her thoughts. "Harris has set a date."

"When?" Kemp asked, leaning forward so quickly he almost tipped Kristen's chocolate milk over.

"A date for what?" Dylan inquired shortly after.

Massie noticed that she seemed to be in a good mood today, which made her extremely happy. When the redhead was feeling positive, she ate more. By the looks of her plate, she consumed more than she had in the past few months. Maybe she was starting to get over her insecurity about her body.

Cam ignored Dylan, though, instead elaborating on Kemp's question.

Dylan's face had _rude_ written all over it.

"Friday. My house."

Josh rubbed his forehead. "_Your_ house?"

"My parents are going to some family reunion," Cam shrugged. "We weren't invited. It's for, like, the adults, I guess. Perfect opportunity."

"How much do we have to pay?" Chris questioned, looking up from his phone, where he had been spending a lot of his time.

"None." Cam grinned at their shocked faces. "Harris says that any friend of mine is a friend of his. Everyone else has to pay seven, though."

Derrick nodded. "Sounds like it'll be fun."

"_What_ will?" demanded Dylan, this time making her voice more forceful than before. Still, she was ignored.

"It will if you don't throw up all over yourself again," Cam snickered.

Massie felt her teeth press into her bottom lip as she watched the goalie's cheeks start to redden in embarrassment. At this point, all she wanted to do was hug him or something; he looked _so cute_ right now.

"It's all your brother's fault," he grumbled, "if Harris had any balls he'd be able to drink by himself."

"You were ten shots in!" Cam defended. "You should have known to stop!"

"I really like raspberry Bacardi, okay?" Derrick shot back. His face was slowly going back to its normal slightly tanned color and an amused smile was playing at his lips. "Of course I'm going to drink more of it if I get the chance."

Josh snorted. "You're actually an idiot. I hope you know that."

"I mean, yeah, I know that." Derrick glanced over at Massie, holding her gaze for a few short seconds. "But what can you do?"

"Probably _not_ have fifteen shots of rum in under two hours," Chris suggested, ducking his head when Derrick tossed a balled up napkin at him. "It's just a thought."

When the boys went silent, Dylan tried again: "That sounds like a great plan and all, but what are you—"

She was interrupted by Kemp asking, "What time on Friday?"

"Probably around eight, eight-thirty." Cam lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "That's just a guess, though. Harris said he's used to partying at, like, ten or eleven o'clock at night, so…"

"As much as I _love_ being ignored," Dylan began sarcastically, "do you think you could maybe start to acknowledge my existence or is that too much to ask?"

At this (quite frankly, bitchy) statement, the five boys turned their heads to look at her.

She blinked back at them, green eyes piercing. "See? Was that so hard?" she questioned rhetorically. "Now that I've got your attention, what are you guys talking about?"

Cam opened his mouth to speak, but Kristen beat him to the punch. "From what I've gathered, they're talking about Harris throwing a party on Friday. As awesome as that sounds, I don't really think that's the best idea considering we have championships the next day…"

Derrick's eyes widened. "That's _this _weekend?"

"Uh, yeah," Kristen replied. "Why did you think your dad was going batshit crazy at practice Saturday?"

"He's always batshit crazy, so I didn't notice anything different." Derrick rubbed at his shoulder. "It's really this weekend?"

She nodded. "The bus is picking us up on Saturday morning."

"Am I not invited to this party?" Dylan inquired with a raised eyebrow, staring directly at Cam. "Because I understand if I'm not, but talking about it in front of me is extremely rude and I don't appreciate it."

Kemp coughed. "I haven't experienced Dylan Marvil Attitude for a while. I almost forgot what it was like."

"Do not make me insult you, Hurley."

He raised his hands in surrender, elbowing Cam and urging him to say the _right _thing.

"You are invited," the boy with multi-colored eyes said. "I thought you would have gotten that from this whole thing."

Massie rolled her eyes. "You didn't exactly talk to us about it," she reminded him. "You talked to them. How were we supposed to know?"

"You're at the table—"

"You ignored Dylan every time she asked a question—"

"Championships is _this weekend_—"

"Shut _up_, Derrick. I can't believe you didn't know that. Your _dad's_ the coach!"

"My dad doesn't talk to me!" the goalie retorted. "He yells! And makes me practice! I am always so tired."

"But you're _good_," Josh reminded him. "The main reason we don't have a substitute goalie is because you don't need one."

"I don't care about soccer," Dylan told them. "I don't think I want to go to this party, Cam."

He sighed. "It's free, Dylan."

"You didn't directly invite me. I'm offended."

"Dylan, I'm formally inviting you to my brother's party, which will most likely be really awesome. Derrick has great stories to tell you from all the other ones."

The blond frowned. "No, I don't. I don't remember anything."

"Exactly. You had a good night."

"I threw up!"

"Well… before that."

"No." Dylan crossed her arms. "I wanted to be invited before."

"You're being such a butt, Dylan."

Massie burst out laughing, covering her mouth when she accidentally snorted. "A _butt_?"

"Shut up," Cam mumbled. "You guys should just come. Tell Alicia too since she's not here."

Chris frowned. "Where is she anyway?"

"Doctor," Derrick said immediately.

"She told you?" Massie blurted, unable to stop herself from speaking. She didn't know why it bothered her so much, but she couldn't help the red hot jealousy that was coursing through her body.

Not jealousy because she was speaking to him about it, but because he was so worried about her constantly. Always wanted to know how she was doing, what she was doing, if she was okay…

It was so annoying.

Not that she didn't want Alicia to have a guy friend… she did. Really. Just… why did it have to be Derrick? And why did he have to be so obsessed with her?

"Yeah," Derrick bobbed his head, acting almost as if he didn't realize how much it irked her. "I texted her this morning because my mom made her cookies."

_His mom made her cookies_?

"Oh," she replied, feeling her heart sink. Candace never made her cookies. Not that fourteen year old Massie would have eaten them, but the gesture would have been appreciated.

Again, Massie wanted to shoot herself.

* * *

><p>After soccer practice, all Josh wanted to do was sleep. He didn't care about his homework, or the fact that he had a massive History test the next day. Now that the countdown to Championships was less than a week, Coach Harrington was pushing them so hard Josh was positive one of them was bound to drop dead one of these days. Not to mention, playing indoors was a pain in the ass.<p>

He would much rather play in the snow and the mud than on the squeaky, shiny floors of the gymnasium, which was one of the reasons he never bothered to try out for indoor during the winter. There was a higher risk of falling and actually hurting yourself than there was outdoors. At least you could get up and walk it off; you could seriously injure yourself on the waxed floors.

But when he got back home, sweaty and gross from Coach Harrington's practice, he realized maybe it wasn't that bad to fall and die in Briarwood's gym.

_Anything _was better than what he saw when he entered the kitchen: His mother with two cups of hot chocolate, looking at him expectantly.

He immediately knew what she wanted to do. His father wasn't home—and he wouldn't be for a while—giving them the perfect opportunity to talk. Josh really wished he hadn't tried to blurt out his little secret. Although he had felt insecure that day, it wasn't a good idea to do that. Now she would never leave him alone.

"I need to shower," he told her. It was a futile way to get her to leave him alone. If he knew anything about his mom, it was that she wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted. And she wanted him to talk.

"You can shower after," she replied. "Sit. Drink this. Your nose looks cold. Did you walk again?"

Josh didn't move. "Briarwood's only a ten minute walk."

"It's twenty degrees out, Joshua." Her voice was stern, just as it always was when she reprimanded him. "Call me next time."

He swallowed. "I didn't want to bother you… Kayla had her drama club rehearsal at the same time and I—"

"I would have still gone to pick you up," she softly interrupted. "You're my son. I don't want you to run the risk of getting sick because you want to be manly and walk through the freezing cold."

"I wasn't being manly, I was just… it didn't seem like a big deal to call you, I guess. I didn't want to bother you."

Gretchen pushed the cup of hot chocolate closer to him. "I know. You said that. Please, Josh, just sit and let's talk."

"I don't want to talk about what happened the other day," he told her quickly, still rooted to his spot. "It was nothing. I was just tired and whiny."

She glanced at him meaningfully. "I'm your mother, Josh. You can tell me anything."

"It's not a big deal," he tried.

"Joshua Anthony Hotz, sit."

The way she said it made Josh comply. There was no way he could say no to her when she used his full name like that.

Slowly, he trudged to the seat across from her, racking his brain for some lie to tell her. He had to get around this. She couldn't know that he thought—more like he was, really—he was gay.

Telling was scarier than actually being it. It made it more real, more _out there_. He couldn't live in denial the way he used to. Having only Kemp know wasn't bad, but his mother? And he never told Massie…

They told each other a lot of things. He knew how she felt about her mother's affair with the gardener and how she picked him over her; how she was conflicted between Cam and Derrick (even if she wasn't outright with it, he was really good at reading her).

He felt bad that she seemed to trust him more than he her, but… it was scary. Her problems were familial, things that happened behind closed doors. His were—being gay. Saying it even to her, someone he considered his closest friend, was something he thought he'd never be able to do.

If he couldn't tell Massie, how could he tell his mother?

He wanted to. He really did. He wanted someone there to tell him it was going to be alright and that they loved him no matter what. Kemp was doing a good job of being the supportive friend, but it was only a couple of months ago that he was calling kids who didn't play a sport homosexuals. It nagged at the back of Josh's mind that perhaps Kemp could turn on him too when they going got tough.

Plain and simple, Josh was scared. Scared of being different and having everyone leave him because of it.

To think he had thought these people overreacted, that they should be able to accept themselves the way they were. This shit was _hard_.

"Now, baby, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, honestly," he tried, keeping his voice level and strong. There was nothing like attempting to get a point across and sounding as if it was all a lie. "I was just having an off day."

"_I don't like chocolate anymore_? Josh, you love chocolate."

"Um… not anymore. I had a bad experience with it so… I'm over it."

Gretchen sighed. "I don't want your father to scare you from telling me things, honey. He's not here. He won't be home for a while." She leaned over to grab his hand and he let her, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. "You can tell me anything."

"I _can't_, though," he relented, voice cracking.

Why did this have to happen to him? Why was he faced with these problems? Forget anything he ever said about gay people—they were much stronger than he ever gave them credit for, especially the ones who shouted to the world they were different. He couldn't even tell his _mom_.

"You're going to judge me. You're going to hate me."

"I _love_ you. Nothing's going to change that. No matter _what_."

He swallowed harshly. "You don't understand, Mom. You never will."

"Try me."

Josh met the gaze so like his, feeling the unmanly prickling behind his eyes. It was almost physically impossible for him to speak up now. He was afraid she was going to… he didn't even know anymore. Basically, he was a coward.

But nothing was going to change—this weight on his shoulders, in his heart—wasn't going to dissipate if he didn't do it.

And there should be no problem with telling his mother. She was an important person in his life, someone that would never judge him… even if the important thing he had to tell her was that he was gay.

They talked about everything. She didn't say anything against him when he made the mistake of getting really drunk a couple of months ago and puking all over the town square. She didn't judge him from jumping from Alicia to Claire. She didn't say anything even though he knew she didn't really approve of the way he was acting when everyone was mad at the Pretty Committee.

Who's to say she'd even be disgusted or shocked by his proclamation?

For all he knew, she was aware of it, just waiting for him to say it.

"Josh…"

She was pleading now. The look on her face was enough to break him and even if his mouth wasn't already opening to speak, he would have forced it out of him somehow.

"I think I'm gay," he told her.

Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he held his breath, waiting for the explosion, the outburst, anything.

Nothing came. There was silence, not even an intake of breath. He thought he was in the clear, thought maybe he could make a run for it now, but then he heard it—

"You're w_hat_?"

That was most definitely not his mother.


	32. thirty one

**Last Time:** Alicia's doctor's appointment didn't go as planned, and not even the giraffes could make her feel better. Kristen's connections with OCD's student council might just help Plovert out in more ways than one, but he's feeling as if he's being pulled in every which way, and it doesn't help that she's dropping all of her responsibilities on him. Massie's crush on Derrick is getting a little out of hand, but maybe Harris' party will help ease her worries. Josh finally told Gretchen he might be (but he is) gay and someone else heard him- someone he doesn't exactly trust.

I suck at updating guys, I'm sorry. But I've been home from college under circumstances I wish I weren't, so I've had a lot of time to prepare myself for this. Hopefully the next will be out soon. If it's not, it's because I'm sitting on my couch watching every season of _Supernatural_ instead.

Warning: Things are going to get a little crazy in the chapters to come after this. And I may or may not have created a monster out of Danny Robbins. My bad.

* * *

><p>If anyone saw Chris, they would automatically assume he lived in Starbucks; it was the only place he was consistently at every week. It seemed like whenever anyone turned, there he was, ordering his usual and plopping into a seat to work out something stressful.<p>

This time, though, he was there for a reason.

Pulling the glass door open, he stepped inside, the warmth a pleasant relief from the bitter cold. He searched the crowd of people- it was poppin' for directly after school- making awkward eye contact with what looked like a woman who was also scouring the shop and ignoring a wink from an obviously-home-from-college teen. He should be flattered, really, but it was actually so uncomfortable.

"Chris!" the tinkling voice of Allie-Rose Singer alerted him, and he spun around, spotting her impossibly shiny head of hair across the room.

He turned, making his way to her- he could feel that college girl staring at his ass as he walked away- and shifted, so his backpack fell lower than it really should have.

"Hey." Chris dropped into the empty seat, a genuine smile playing at his lips. "How's it goin'?"

Allie pushed a cup his way. "We ordered for you. I think we got it right… if not, I'll totally go buy you something else."

He sniffed it. "Nope, you got it. Thanks." Cinnamon. Mm.

"Good." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I was a little worried."

"Don't be," he replied, taking a long sip despite the fact that it was burning everything it touched. "So." He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, trying to alleviate the sensation he was feeling. "What were these big plans you wanted to talk to me about?"

Saylene Homer squealed, the only sound emitted from her lips since he got there. "We've had these ideas for _so long_, Chris," she told him, and he was a bit startled. He hardly interacted with this girl (she wasn't exactly in the group of girls that had enticed Derrick in the first place) but from what he saw- and knew- of her, she wasn't exactly the type that giggled erratically. She was, after all, the vice president.

Ignoring this outburst, he pressed on, "Tell me about them."

"Well," she spoke again, more composed. "We came up with a list of things we wanted to do when Kristen was still our prez and Allie was VP and- you get it- but we think with _your_ help, they'll work better than they ever would. Briarwood is like that missing puzzle piece."

He nodded. "Alright. Hit me."

The girl to his left- Sadie Meltzer, it seemed; she was hard to recognize now that she got her hair cut- flipped open a binder. "Powderpuff."

_Okay_, Chris thought, drinking some more of his coffee to avoid speaking, _she was definitely a no-no-nonsense type of girl_.

"As in… girls playing football?"

"The very one." She nodded affirmatively. "We figured we could have tried to do it, but who would-"

Chris frowned. "No offense, but… OCD doesn't really seem like the school to do _powderpuff_ as an event…"

"That's where you're wrong, Chris," Allie-Rose teased. "You'd be surprised by the amount of support we have for this. A lot of girls are willing to play against the other grades- especially the juniors."

"And how will that work out exactly?" he questioned, already feeling the beginning of a headache forming. "Do you have a plan, or…?"

Saylene patted his shoulder. "Of course we do, Chris. We learned from the best."

"We've been thinking that the boys will coach the girls," Meena Stewart, Layne's quiet friend, added herself to the conversation. "And they don't have to be football players to do so… considering the football players are mostly juniors and seniors and they'll help them out. OCD will do everything else. Like, the uniform, the posters- unless Briarwood's AP art club wants to help out too- and the games will be played at your field since it's bigger."

"Okay…" Chris nodded. "Eight girls playing at all times?"

"That's what I've researched," Meena told him. "But the rules come from you guys since you are all in charge of that aspect. We're thinking about having the assistant coaches referee."

He pursed his lips, drumming his fingers against the table. "I dig this," he announced, watching as all four of them breathed what seemed to be a sigh of relief. "I'll speak to the boys over in Briarwood while you get this approved by the board."

Coming into this meeting, Chris had been unsure of whether or not he was going to enjoy these ideas, but this one seemed solid. He didn't want to sound like he didn't trust their judgment, but this was _OCD_, and when Massie and Co. still went there, it was all about looks and labels. And honestly… he didn't want to have to deal with an auction again.

It was then that he realized-

"Can Kristen and all of them participate in these events?"

Saylene answered without skipping a beat: "Of course! She used to go here. They _all_ used to go here. No matter where they go, they are always OCD girls."

He nodded. "Not that I'm saying they'll definitely want to come, I'm just making sure they could."

"The more the merrier, honestly," Sadie told him. "Contrary to popular belief, a lot of girls actually liked them. Without the Pretty Committee, it's… boring, really. No one competes with Skye and she walks around like she owns the place."

"Oh, believe me." Chris snickered. "Skye knows that no matter where Massie goes, she will continue to try to intimidate her."

Allie-Rose smirked, which was an odd look for her because she normally looked so sweet. "Good. Anyway, we've got some other ideas to throw by you…"

"Let me guess," he clasped his hands in front of him, "a dance?"

"That's one of them," admitted Saylene. "What's OCD and Briarwood without a dance?"

Chris sighed. "A good year?"

A chuckle came from somewhere in Meena's direction, but she quickly covered it up with a loud cough. Allie-Rose looked over at her fondly, leaning her chin against her open palm.

"We have something else, too," the president added, hardly looking in his direction. He tilted his head back to finish his drink, waiting for her to elaborate. "My cousin was telling me about this thing she does in Florida to raise money for prom, right? So, I was thinking… we need to do that… and you need to do that… so- class night."

"What is a 'class night'?" he questioned, disappointed that his drink was done.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket, but he refused to pick it up, seeing as no one else had their phones out on the table. It would be rude to interrupt their meeting to answer a text. Besides, anyone he was friends with knew he was doing something at the current moment.

Allie turned her head, her piercing green eyes locked on his. "It's like this competition between all the grades in skit, dance, costume, music… It's all student-run. The only help given is from adult advisors and they can be counselors, teachers, anything. Here. Look."

She pulled her laptop out of her backpack- she was really prepared for this meeting and he literally brought himself and a pencil- and placed it on the tabletop, powering it up. "My cousin sent me videos of what her grade has done. Apparently they're really good. She's a senior now and hers just ended. It's what they do instead of Homecoming or something like that."

Logging on to Facebook, Allie pressed on a link posted in a message, turning the screen towards him. A few seconds passed before loud music blared and girls twirled out onto what looked like a gym floor, performing an intricate dance that Chris could not keep up with.

It went on and on, the actual performance in between each dance number. They were working with Batman, it seemed, and it was actually quite funny. The makeup on these characters was brilliant, the dances exhilarating, the dialogue entertaining…

And it all ended too soon.

"Basically, there are four dances: girls, boys, the _good_ dancers- meaning the kickline, the cheerleaders, the ones in dance classes- and couples. Kids write the skit. They make up the dances. They do it all. Then they're judged."

"Don't forget about the best part," Meena reminded her, checking the time on her watch. "Sports night."

Allie clapped her hands. "And before you even ask," she started, "it's when the boys and girls compete against the other grades in different sporting events. My cousin's school does tennis and football and, like, basketball, but I was thinking volleyball, relay races…"

"And we can make shirts for it!" Sadie exclaimed. "Ones for family and friends, too. We just have to figure out the theme and-"

Meena stood quickly, throwing all of her things in her bag. "Sorry, I gotta run. If you have any money-related questions, Chris, just call me or something. They already put me in charge of figuring out the budget and whatnot. Just let me know how much you need and I'm sure I can figure it out."

Chris' phone went off again as he nodded at her and he quickly looked down to see that his mom was calling him… for the fifth time.

Shit.

"I like all of these ideas, guys-"

"-but you didn't even hear the dance theme!"

"-I trust you," he told them, "and I'd totally stay longer but my mom has called me, like, six times, and now that I'm not on the soccer team, she's obsessed with me getting straight As and helping my younger sisters excel in all of their classes too, so… just run these by the board and let me know what they think before I ask Briarwood to announce it to the student body."

Allie-Rose mock-saluted him. "Will do, Capt. Shall we reconvene with your entire army?"

Chris wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Uh, yeah. Next week? After championships?"

"Sounds good. Later, Plovert."

* * *

><p><strong>MASSIE:<strong> no seriously you're gonna be fine  
><strong>DERRICK:<strong> but you don't get it  
><strong>MASSIE:<strong> get what exactly

The brunette put her phone down, sighing as she waited for a response. Without the constant text from Derrick, she had only her math homework to do, and she desperately wanted a distraction from it. She wanted a distraction from him, too, but that was a little…

It was weird talking to him this much. Normally, they were only civil to each other when they were in school, but today had been different. She walked into the cafeteria for lunch with him, spent the whole period talking to him about god knows what, and then the conversation never really stopped.

As bad as it was, she hadn't talked to Cam today. He hadn't looked for her, either, which wasn't out of the ordinary. Their relationship was different and sometimes, she forgot they were a 'thing' because, in reality, she didn't really think they were. It wasn't much to think about; they just did something at one party and continued to do it at various times, but…

Massie shook her head, not wanting to worry about it.

**DERRICK:** this is championships and my dad is a freak of nature

She gripped her phone to respond back, but before she could even type a word in, her phone rang, signaling a call from her father.

"Hi, Daddy," she greeted, spinning in her chair. The past few months had brought her and her father closer together. She had always been a Daddy's Girl but with Kendra leaving the family and dropping all the weight on William's shoulders, it was just enough to turn the two remaining Blocks into the family they never were.

Massie liked it. She really did.

It was nice to have someone to talk to who wasn't her best friend or her dog. Her dad didn't know everything, but he knew enough, and he might not have been good at giving advice, but he knew how to make her forget all about her troubles.

"Hey, Mass," he answered. She could hear him driving in the car. "Are you ready? I'm just turning down our block now."

She perked up, dropping her pencil on her notebook. "To get the Christmas tree?" she questioned. "Yeah, just let me put my shoes on."

"Okay. And, Mass, I have a surprise," he advised, "keep an open mind."

They hung up, and Massie pulled her feet into her combat boots. This was the first time she had ever actually gone to get any holiday-related items. Even when she was younger, the lights were already bought and hung up without her help, the tree was found by one of the servants… This time, she was going. She got to pick it out and watch it settle and then decorate it while drinking hot chocolate.

It was all so exciting and she didn't even care that she was feeling this way at the age of fifteen.

Quickly, she texted Derrick back, wrapping a scarf around her neck and slipping her arms into her coat.

**MASSIE: **briarwoods gonna win I mean come on  
><strong>DERRICK:<strong> if we're lucky but I really can't talk about this anymore.. are you going to harris' party?  
><strong>MASSIE: <strong>maybe it all depends  
><strong>DERRICK: <strong>on what  
><strong>MASSIE:<strong> idk I just.. might not go

Down the stairs she went, ready to leave the house when she saw it.

Or better yet- her.

The curtains hadn't been shut yet so Massie had to go right by a window to get to the front door. Sparing a glance outside, she saw her dad's car- obviously- with the lights still on as he waited. _That_ wasn't unusual. What was, however, was the person in the passenger's seat.

The _woman_ in the passenger's seat.

Massie swallowed, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. William and this woman were talking as if they were very comfortable with each other, as if they were… _friends_. How could he have time to make friends? Acquaintances, even? He was always at work! Or with Massie! He… _how_?

She pressed her teeth into her lower lip, nibbling harshly as she watched him cup the blond woman's cheek gently, with a soft passion.

Why was she here? Was she the surprise? She was an awful surprise, if that was what it was. _Keep an open mind_? Yeah, sure.

Her feet seem rooted to the spot, but her head was urging her to move forward, to grasp the door handle, and enter the cold. She couldn't though. She couldn't. There was no way she'd be able to go up to her dad like that. Even though she didn't have any information on this woman- maybe she was a sister she never met, a relative- she wanted to run back upstairs and pretend this never happened. She felt betrayed, a little part of her destroyed… She wasn't the only person in his life anymore.

…was she ever?

She wanted to throw up. This couldn't be happening- not now. Not ever. All these changes weren't… she didn't deserve all this. Her mother left. And then… This.

For the first time in her life, Massie wished she could go back in time to when she was perfectly happy, to when her family was happy, and her friends were friends and not… whatever they were now. She wanted to go back to before they started high school, to before Claire and before the gardener and before boys were so cute and before hearts were so easy to play with.

But still, she had no idea what was going on right now. All she knew was that she wasn't happy. She had an extremely bad feeling about this.

And, of course, she couldn't exactly turn around and hide in her room. William had already seen her.

_Lovely_.

He waved to her, gesturing for her to come outside, and Massie nodded, taking a deep breath before facing what felt like her death. Couldn't she go back to only caring about how she looked and what BCBG shoes were in the Westchester again?

_No_, a little voice said in the back of her head. That's not who she was anymore. Sure, she loved a good pair of booties, but that wasn't what life revolved around anymore. She learned some things when Kendra left and… well, the Massie that idolized Kendra was a bitch and cared about the worst things in life.

It wasn't that she still didn't act like that; she just tried to be different. After all, the boys wanted nothing to do with _that_ girl. They came back when she was a decent human being. Obviously everyone hated her at one point or another and it was high time she learned.

"Okay," she whispered, "you can do this."

Her feet moved almost on their own accord because her mind was frozen. Step by step she went, gripping the front door handle and locking the house behind her as she stepped into the light snowfall. She couldn't be irrational now. She didn't even know the situation. In order to react, she needed to be educated.

But that didn't mean she couldn't be terrified.

Massie slipped into the backseat of the car, placed her hands on her lap, and waited.

"Massie," William started slowly. "This is Meg Ryan, my… friend."

The blond woman turned in the front seat, extending her hand out. "I've heard so much about you, Massie. You're just as pretty as your father described."

She shook the hand emotionlessly, her thoughts jumbling in her head. _Meg Ryan_? She knew that name from somewhere... Her mother had thrown it around in a fight... the one that caused her to leave. William had worked with her in his business, but now she was in his car-

Massie did not like where this was headed.

"It's nice to meet you," she choked out, twisting the ring on her finger. It had been a birthday present a few years back. When everything was normal. Or was it?

"I think William told me you go to school with my daughter, Olivia?"

The brunette's eyes widened just a fraction of an inch and she felt as if her heart stopped. Olivia? This was _Olivia Ryan's mom_? Meg. Ryan. Olivia. Ryan. What was Massie's father doing with Olivia's mom?

"Um, yeah," she said. "We used to be in a few classes but now I go to Briarwood, so I don't really see her anymore."

Meg nodded. "I heard about that," she murmured. "It's nice of them to let you in after that. That expulsion was completely unfair."

Massie didn't know what to do but fake a smile. Fortunately for her, William's new... friend didn't notice the insincerity in her actions and continued on, "I hope you don't mind me tagging along on your little adventure with your father. I need to pick up a few things and he said it wasn't a big deal."

She coughed- hard, loud, and rough. "You're _coming_?" she demanded, her legs shaking ever so slightly.

"Yeah." Obviously Meg did not understand Massie was being rude. "I figured we could stop for some hot chocolate before we stood around in the cold, looking for trees, you know?"

Massie had no idea what to say- everything was so confusing and such a mess- except for "um, sure" which she blurted without thinking.

While her father and Meg chatted and the car was put into drive, Massie pulled her phone out of her bag, ignoring the most recent text messages and sending one right back to Derrick.

**MASSIE: **just kidding i am so going

* * *

><p>Kristen was exhausted.<p>

With championships a day away, Coach Harrington was kicking them into high drive. All these practices and extra workouts were killing not just her but every other player on the team. At the rate he was pushing them, they would probably never make it to the actual game- they'd all just die because they were being overworked. And knowing Coach Harrington, he'd find a way to bring them all back from the dead and kill them again for losing.

She sighed, pulling the elastic out of her dirty blond waves en route to her locker. The anticipation of a hot shower to loosen up her stiff muscles danced around her until it was all she could think about. At least while she was in there, she didn't have to worry about the shitload of work she had to do when she got out. Marsha had told her this morning she was to start learning SAT words after dinner, she had three essays to prep for, Derrick needed help in chemistry, and, of course, Coach Harrington asked them all to practice their part in their "special play" for the big game.

Fifteen and tired, that's what Kristen was.

The halls were empty- but that's what you got when you practiced from the last bell to six at night- as she maneuvered through. There was a faint scent of tile cleaner, indicating the janitors had started their rounds, and, if she focused very, very hard, the squeaking of sneakers on the floor.

But, of course, she didn't- and that's why she was more than confused when she was slammed, chest first, into the row of lockers to her left.

"_Ow_," she ground out, rubbing her forehead where it ricocheted off the metal. "Look out next time."

"I was," a familiar voice replied silkily. "I aimed right for my target."

Scrunching her nose, which was a little sore, and spun around quickly. Her heart constricted and her tongue dried. "...Danny?"

Dark-haired, blue-eyed and six feet tall, Danny Robbins stood before her. A charmingly fake smile lit up his features. Two other soccer players- Kristen didn't know their names, just their numbers- flanked him, a certain glint in their eye making her feel extremely uneasy.

"In the flesh, my darling." He rubbed her cheek with his pointer finger. Kristen jerked back, hitting her head once again.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, not liking where she thought this was going. "Just... leave me alone."

Danny smiled. "No can do, Kgreg." His face was so close to hers now. "You're just the person I've been looking for. I want to... _talk_."

She blinked, quirking an eyebrow back at him. "You want to talk?" she repeated, head pounding. "This isn't the most ideal place to do that in my opinion."

"No one asked you," Number Thirteen interjected rather rudely.

Kristen's light-eyed gaze sought after him, piercing him with her stare. "I don't believe I was talking to you, was I?"

He made a move to step forward. Danny's hand shot out, keeping him still behind him. "Calm yourself, Rogers. We'll still have our fun. I just want to talk to our friend here."

_Have our fun?_ Kristen's mouth dried, her throat hurting as she tried to swallow. She knew Danny didn't like the fact that the Pretty Committee called Briarwood home- not many boys here did enjoy that fact. It was weird, really, seeing as they liked the girls _outside_ of school... Every inch of her was itching to get out of there, to race home instead of her usual leisurely walk. It wasn't safe. It probably never was.

(Why, why, _why_ had she been so stupid last year? She could be in OCD right now!)

Danny's hand gripped the neck of her shirt in a fist, forcing her back against the locker harshly. "We're going to lose tomorrow, Gregory. We're going to _lose_."

"I think we have a fair shot of winning actually," she retorted, letting slip a smartass remark she knew she should have kept inside. "Coach has got us-"

"Shut up, will you?" he snarled. "He's not Coach to you. He's nothing. You just conveniently got that spot because you knew people. I _should_ have gotten Plovert's position. _I'm_ better than you are. Hell, _everyone_ is better than you are!"

Kristen frowned, her bottom lip forming an unconscious pout. "Well, ouch, Robbins. That stung."

"Sassy."

"I try."

"This is getting ridiculous, Robbins," the other guy- Fifty-two- hissed, eyes moving every which way. "Are you going to keep stalling or...?"

Danny sighed heavily. "When I'm done _talking. _Calm down."

"Can I just ask why you're-"

"Shut _up_, Kristen," he snapped, fingers tightening on her bicep. "No one likes you. You're an insufferable know-it-all that shouldn't even _be_ here. Boo hoo, you and your fucking friends got expelled from OCD- _go somewhere else_. We were perfectly fine without you five here and now the entire school is batshit crazy and the faculty is giving positions on the soccer team to people like _you_ because they _pity you_, okay? There. I said it. You don't deserve this position. You don't deserve anything you've gotten here. You should just _leave_."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" She shakily asked. "They _pity_ me?"

Danny rolled his eyes. "That's what I said, isn't it?" he chuckled hoarsely. "That's the thing with you girls, especially you Pretty Committee girls. You act like you're so smart when you can't even see the things that are right in front of you. Alicia sure couldn't. You can't- and aren't you the smartest one in the group? It's rather sad, really, that you keep coming to school here every day, acting like you're part of a community no one really wants to let you in on-"

"That's a lie," Kristen spat out. "There are plenty of people who-"

"Name five," the older boy dared her. "And don't even think about putting any of your precious soccer boys on that list. They're just delusional little boys who want a nice piece of tail. They don't care about any of you."

She froze, feeling her heart sink in her chest. "They do," she argued weakly. "We're friends. I know you don't understand the meaning of friendship between the two sexes but-"

He squeezed her a little bit tighter and she gasped. "Kristen, Kristen, Kristen... _you_ don't understand 'friendship between two sexes' as you so... nerdishly put it. There's no such thing." He smoothed her hair with one hand, smiling serenely. "Boys are very easy to figure out. We're nice to you because we think you're good looking. We keep trying and trying until you show some sort of interest in us and the cycle continues. We say nice things, we do nice things- just so, in the end, we'll get laid. And that, my friend," he glanced at her stricken face, "is it."

Kristen looked at him with wide eyes. "Not everyone is like that."

"Basically, they are," he replied. "Hate to burst your bubble."

She pressed her teeth into her lower lip, crinkling her golden brows in confusion. "No, that's just a small portion, not-"

Danny pinched her cheek roughly. "Okay. You don't get it, do you? Understandable. Not many girls do. They're going to be stuck on some fairytale shit Disney made them believe. I get it. Let me make this easier for you." He sighed, rubbing his eye whilst the boys behind him shifted their weight from foot to foot anxiously. "Do you really think I liked Alicia? _Nope_. Or that Cam really wants to _date_ Massie? He's probably just happy someone's putting out after dating that Claire chick for so long. Thank _god_ she's friends with Skye now; I'm sure Landon really likes what _that_ did to her-"

"Wait... I-"

"Shhh." He pressed his finger to her lips. "It's rude to interrupt, you know. Didn't your mother teach you anything?"

This was insane. Kristen was not doing this right now. She was not being held up against a locker while _Danny Robbins_ spouted nonsense at her. But... she was. This was all happening. This wasn't a dream or some weird nightmare she'd wake up from. Once this was over, she'd have bruises and one hell of a headache. Would it ever be over, though? It seemed like he had so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to scare her with. It was like he was _waiting_ for her to be all alone so he could-

"Todd doesn't even like you, I hope you know that."

She shook herself out of her thoughts, meeting his angry gaze once more. Todd? No one knew about that. Not even Dylan. Not even _Massie_. How...

"Girls might think boys are dumb, but we're really not. We know when you're looking at us. We know when you want something. We just pretend so you'll leave us alone because nine out of ten times, we don't want to do any of the things you're hoping we'll do. So... yeah, I've noticed how little Todd reacts around you- around your name, your presence... basically anything that has an essence of you- and he, too, just wants to get some action. Can't blame him, you're a pretty little number. Frisky, too."

"What does any of this have to do with anything?" she questioned, becoming more and more shaken up as time went on. "Why are you saying any of this? Is it benefiting you in any way at all?"

"We want you _gone_, Kristen. All of us. There's no reason for you to be here. Go find some other preppy school to go. Leave us alone here. Stop trying to take over what isn't yours."

"I'm not trying to take this school over," she replied quickly. "I'm just trying to _graduate_. What's so bad about that? I want to get good grades, have a good resume, and get into a good college when the time comes. I didn't ask for any of this."

Danny scoffed. "You're taking things that don't belong to you! Plovert's position on the soccer team-"

"Is that what this is about?" she snapped. "Because if it is, you can have it! Next year, I'm not even going to try out for the soccer team!"

"You're not going to _be here _next year," he snarled. "And it's not about a spot on the soccer team. It's so much bigger than that."

"Is it really?" she demanded. "Because that's all I've ever really heard from you this entire time. If you wanted it so badly, maybe you should have tried harder, okay? There's obviously a reason you didn't get it and _I_ did. So take your anger somewhere else and let me go. It's not my fault you didn't get what you wanted. Life doesn't work out that wa-"

"You know what?" Danny ground out. "I've had enough of this. Ready, Rogers? I promised you fun and you're gonna get it."

And that's when his fist flew straight into her eye socket.

* * *

><p>Kemp only ever stayed late after practice for one thing: the only shower with good water pressure. Sure, he could go home and use his own, but there was something absolutely gratifying about immediately relaxing his muscles after a particularly grueling practice.<p>

Everyone was long gone by the time he stepped foot inside, the hot water dripping down his bare back. Derrick had left, eyes glued to his phone, his father barking in his ear tips on how to catch the soccer ball. Cam was being forced on an alcohol run with Harris, picking up the group's favorite liquors and various jellos. Josh had shown up quieter than usual and was picked up by his mother at exactly six on the dot.

Being by himself wasn't such a bad thing. It gave him time to think and time like that wasn't available at the drop of a hat like many thought. He realized he had pushed aside a lot of his homework from previous weeks. Soccer was weighing on him so much more than it normally did- that was probably why it wasn't a full year sport. Or why there was no such thing as a full year sport. His friends- all of them- were acting oddly and he hoped that Harris' party would be as epic as everyone believed it would.

Massaging shampoo and conditioner into his hair and letting it wash right out, Kemp turned the water off after standing under the high pressure for god knows how long. He tied a towel around his waist and managed to slip into some comfortable sweats and a t-shirt before grabbing all of his things.

He had a lot of shit to do when he got home. His mom would be working late, as she usually did on Thursdays. His dad would be passed out until his shift as a cop started. The mental image of piles of work made him cringe; a part of him knew he wouldn't do it. He'd stay up late, playing video games like he always did.

Gym bag slung over his shoulder, Kemp pushed the door of the locker room open, exiting into the hallway. One quick right and he'd be out in the parking lot, just a short walk from his house. Then he could make himself some hot chocolate or something and nap, maybe-

"Stop, please," a girl's voice pleaded.

-or maybe not.

"I thought I told you to shut up," another one- more masculine- snapped. The sound of skin against skin pierced the air combined with a lock slamming against a locker. It sickened Kemp down to the very core, causing him to drop all of his belongings and slink around the corner.

He might have wanted to go home and sleep, but he had always been nosy. And nosy Kemp put himself in every situation possible.

"That was before you started- _ow_!"

"If I can't get you to leave, I sure as hell can try," the guy voice snarled. "_No one_ likes you. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this."

Kemp did not like the sound of that. Nor did he like the fact that he could clearly distinguish the voice as Danny Robbins'. _Nothing_ good came out of Danny Robbins.

Not even caring if his shoes made noises against the freshly waxed floor, Kemp let his feet follow his ears in such a rapid pace. What he saw when he was out in the open made him nauseous, his toes curling in his shoes- and not in the good way.

"_Kristen_?"

All four people turned to face him- or tried, at least- and he felt his lip raise in disgust. Danny Robbins, Cory Rogers, and Ben Dickson were all standing around a girl. A blond girl just Kemp's age clad in what looked like work out clothes: spandex and a plain cotton shirt. He knew that look anywhere. He had seen it not even a half hour before in the gym.

This was Kristen. Or what looked like Kristen with a black eye and bloody lip.

"Who the _fuck_ thinks it's a good idea to beat up a _girl_?" he snarled, taking three steps forward and taking hold of Dickson's collar. He heaved him away from the mob, the force throwing him into the wall opposite them. "Because last I checked, that was against the rules."

Danny turned. "Rules? There are no rules. All is fair in love and war, Hurley."

Kemp shook his head. "Get off of her, Robbins. She's done nothing to you."

"She's done everything to me," he snapped. "She's done everything to this school."

"I don't like you, Robbins, but I'm going to let you go." Kemp took a step forward, glaring menacingly. When he didn't move back an inch, Kemp continued: "Don't make me make this hard for you."

"What are you gonna do?" the older boy asked, amusement twinkling in his tone. "Hit me? Are you going to hurt me because I won't let precious Kristen go?"

"There is no reason to beat her up!" snarled Kemp. "This isn't some silly teen movie. You don't have to _prove_ yourself."

Danny rolled his eyes, turning his body to face the sophomore head on. "I'm not trying to prove myself," he snapped at him. "I'm trying to make things right. If you haven't noticed, girls don't belong here. All they've done is _ruin_ everything here- take away the spots on the team, try to reconstruct everything we've got. Kristen here is part of the tutoring committee! She's _helping _people get better grades. She's help _Derrick _get better grades. Do you know how hard I worked to get his teachers to _fail_ him?"

Kristen coughed loudly at the same time Kemp felt his fists clench. "You... _what_?"

"It didn't work for all of them, but it did for the ones who were sick and tired of his prissy, self-righteous attitude," Danny hissed. "He was slowly but surely failing- not drastically, but enough. A few more tests, a few more semesters, and he'd have to be kicked off the soccer team. And then- _for once_- we'd actually be good. But, of course, Kristen here- little must-do-everything-for-the-good-of-everyone Kristen- had to start tutoring. And she had to get Derrick. And despite the fact that you guys _hated_ her, she helped him. I'm sick and tired of your pathetic group of friends getting everything you want-"

"You sound like a psychotic killer," Kemp told him dryly. "You bribed teachers to get Derrick to fail and then beat up a _girl_. Are you really that obsessed with us that you feel the need to purposely go after us?"

He cackled. "_Obsessed_?" he repeated, his fake laughter filling up the empty hall. "Definitely not. I'm just giving to you what you deserve."

"No, seriously. You sound fucking crazy." Kemp ran a hand through his hair. "You should probably get help, you know? Go to a therapist. The fact that you're going after a group of kids because you're _angry_ is the stupidest thing I've ever-"

"It's not just me," Danny interrupted. "There are a lot more people who hate you and your little girlfriends. You think you're so _entitled_. It's high time you learned not everything is going to get handed to you on a silver platter. Some of us have to work to get where we are and you? You just step into the place and it's passed over like-"

"I have to work to get everything," Kristen told him harshly, drawing a shaky breath. "I don't know who you think _I_ am, but I'm constantly working my ass off to get what I want. So before you think about putting me in a general classification, maybe you should do your research."

"Still sassy even after all I've done to you." Danny grinned. "That's the thing about you Pretty Committee girls- you still try to act like your shit don't stink. I see that your dear Alicia is losing her mojo though."

Kemp frowned. "Yep. Definitely crazy."

"You guys are finally about to get what's coming to you. Like I was telling Kristen, no one likes you. _Everyone_ hates you. You'll find that out soon enough."

With a short head nod, Danny led the way out of the school, leaving Kristen and Kemp alone. When the footsteps were long gone, the latter found himself sitting next to the dirty blond, a thousand and one thoughts running through his mind. "I'm sorry," was all he could think of to say.

She shook her head. "It's... well, it's not fine, but it's not your fault."

"Come on." He sighed, taking her hand and helping her up. "Let's get you home."

"No," she blurted. "I- my parents can't see me like this. If they do... I-"

"Okay." Kemp wasn't in the mood to ask questions and he really didn't want to get anyone in trouble. Not after Danny finally lost all his marbles. "I'll take you to my house. My mom won't think twice about it. You can even stay for dinner."

Kristen rubbed her eye. "Thanks, Kemp... I... I think I was wrong about you."

He threw his arm around her shoulder, noticing that she was a little groggy as she walked, stumbing over her feet every so often. "I was wrong about myself, too, Kris."

"What did Danny mean by us getting what was coming?" she questioned, sounding more and more like a terrified four year old. "I haven't been _that _terrible to people, have I?"

Kemp wanted to say she hadn't, he really did, but the Pretty Committee wasn't exactly the _nicest_ group of girls this side of the Mississippi. "I don't know," was all he said. He might have been unable to answer her question, but he had a bad feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

And, well, that was never a good sign.

* * *

><p>Claire picked up the phone right in the chorus of Katy Perry's <em>Firework<em>. "Hello?"

"I hope you've got a killer outfit hidden in that cute little closet of yours," Skye's voice said on the other line.

The blond rubbed her eye sleepily, sitting up in her bed. "I'm sure I could figure something out for the weekend, but-"

"No, silly!" Skye squealed loudly. Claire pulled the phone away from her ear, the high pitched sound irritating her to no end. "For right now. In like... twenty minutes to be exact."

"Skye..." she started off, nice and slow. "It's nine thirty. On a _Thursday_."

"So what?" the older girl questioned, obvious confusion laced in her tone. "Thirsty Thursday, am I right? I can have Deena over in five if you need help getting ready. Which... knowing you, you will. Start looking through your shit, girl. We're goin' crazy!"

She hung up shortly after that, giving Claire no reason but to kick the covers off of her bed, slide her feet into her slippers, and trudge through her room in order to flip the lights on. Her blue-and-white room came to life just like it had not even an hour prior. Continuing on her trip to her dresser, Claire stopped to look at herself in the mirror, grimacing at the sight before her.

With major bedhead and slightly swollen eyes, it was completely noticeable that she had been asleep when her friend called. How was it going to be possible to make herself look good in twenty minutes? Even with Deena's help- that is, if Deena was feeling helpful in the first place- Claire was going to be a seven on Massie's scale to ten.

She sighed, grabbing her brush and pulling it through her knotty hair. It was a Thursday. She was getting ready to go out and have fun on a school night. Who did that? Massie would never suggest anything that would make her lose beauty sleep or time to study. That was why Claire liked Skye and the DSL Daters. They let loose when they wanted to and worried about the consequences later. It was always so stressful worrying about her grades and her papers and how everyone perceived her. It was nice to do things for _her_ for a change.

So what if she had a hangover tomorrow or got no sleep? It would be worth it.

Besides, she'd have one hell of a story to tell.

A tap on her window stopped her from continuing to brush her hair and she turned, slightly startled to see Deena's face _right there_. Throwing her hair into a messy bun, she pulled it open and let her friend in, the wind sending tiny strands of hair into her face.

"It is fucking _freezing_ out," Deena said, ignoring Claire's persistant shushing. "I climbed that tree in stilettos... and you're in your pajamas."

Claire felt her cheeks burn, but she looked the older girl's outfit over, feeling awfully underdressed compared to her. For the group's resident badass, Deena looked absolutely gorgeous. It was slutty with just a touch of "back off"- a look that would have the boys coming... until they realized just what kind of girl she was: the type that could knock them out with just one punch to the face.

In a tight, curve-hugging black mini-dress, Deena's entire body looked magnificent. Her legs were extra long in her spiky stilettos; her make-up done dark and smoky, lips bare. Her blond hair- just like every girl in the DSL Daters (they thought blonds really did have more fun)- was curly and wild, hardly tamed around her face. How this all managed to stay in the windy weather and snowfall, Claire would never know.

"I got the call literally a second ago, so..."

"Save the sob story for later, Lyons." Deena was already searching through her closet, pushing reject clothes out of the way in seconds. "Don't you have _anything_ besides these Sunday school dresses and conservative polos? Who _are_ you?"

Claire tucked her hair behind her ear. "I was the sweet one of the group in case you've forgotten."

Deena didn't respond, instead pulling out what Claire had tossed back there ages ago, knowing she would never wear. "This..." the girl started. "This will do."

"You're kidding, right? Dylan bought that for me as a gag gift for Christmas in, like, the eighth grade. She thought it would be _funny_."

"But instead, it's perfect." Deena grinned, tossing the black mesh corset top at the sophomore. "The zipper might make it even more scandalous than Skye's own outfit. You have to wear it."

Old Claire would have protested. She would have giggled herself insane, turned red all over, and managed to get herself in a shirt that went to the knees and called it a day. New Claire- DSL Dater Claire- merely plucked it off the hanger, held it up to her body and tilted her head in the mirror. "I guess it looks good."

"You _guess_?" Deena gawked. "Girl, with your figure, boys will not be able to keep their hands off of you!"

"Thanks," Claire murmured. "What should I wear with-"

"You _do not_ have velvet studded leggings." Deena practically cackled with joy, running her fingers along the leg. "Where did you get them?"

Claire smirked. "The second part of Dylan's present, actually," she replied. "That was a funny Christmas. Alicia bought Massie lingerie."

"Spare me the details," the junior waved her off. "You have got to wear these. That's a kickass outfit, babe. All you need is shoes. And this, my friend, is a sexy little number that... these hiker boots would look fantastic with." She threw those, too, on Claire's bed, turning to her with a triumphant look on her face. "See? You have a good closet sometimes."

"I'm glad it's helpful when we need it most."

"Yeah," Deena agreed. "Thank goodness you don't have to dress yourself for school anymore. I don't know _what_ you'd wear."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she replied dryly. "Now, just help me out. Skye's going to be here in..." She checked the time on her phone. "Ten minutes. I don't want to make her wait."

* * *

><p><strong>Since I'm so bad at updating, here's a sneak peek at what's coming up!<strong>

"Take it. It'll help you let loose."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea..."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to help you have a little more fun."

-:-

"This isn't exactly the model behavior I was hoping from you-"

"They beat me up! I'm sorry I'm _acting out_!"

-:-

"What do you remember exactly?"

She closed her eyes, groaning loudly. "Pregaming to Kesha and One Direction."

"Oh shit."

-:-

_I'm going to throw up, I'm going to throw up..._

"Is there anything you'd like to tell us?"

_I'm going to throw up, I'm going to throw up..._

"Get out of my house."


	33. thirty two

**Last Time**: Skye adopted Claire into the DSL Daters and is taking her out on for a bit of fun on a Thursday night. Alicia went to the doctor and has to wait for the results of her tests to see if she's pregnant or not. Because of a seating arrangement in Woodshop, she and Derrick are best friends. Massie's father has a new "friend" in the form of Meg Ryan and he brought her along to purchase a Christmas tree. Josh told his mom he's gay and someone else over heard. Kristen got the shit beat out of her by Danny Robbins, but luckily Kemp found her before anything worse could happen.

There is a lot of Claire in this chapter. Anything that isn't about her happened earlier in the day.

This took me seventeen years to get out. I'm sorry. I hate myself and finals and the fact that I skipped two days of classes to go meet One Direction... Anyway, this mainly focused on friendships, not relationships. We will get to Harris' party soon.

* * *

><p>"I <em>don't<em> look nineteen." Claire didn't want to tell them that her hands were shaking, but she was pretty sure they could already tell. It wasn't like her outfit had pockets. "I don't even look like this—" She flicked the plastic of the identification card into the light. "—Mackenzie Daniels. Her nose is far pointer than mine is."

"You ramble when you're nervous," Deena observed calmly. She shoved a McDonalds cup into the younger girl's pale hands, almost making her drop her false identity. "Drink this until you don't feel like that anymore. You're making me nauseous."

"But—"

"Just _do it_, Lyons."

She took a deep, shaky breath, bringing the straw to her lips. A mixture of Sprite and coconut rum filled her mouth and she swallowed, feeling the warmth of the alcohol travel down her throat and to her stomach. It settled there awkwardly, making her feel full, but her head was still swimming with thoughts. She continued to drink, not realizing that her sips were turning to gulps and she was hardly taking the time to breathe.

It was enough to bring her surroundings into focus. She was more aware of the presence of her friends, the other random young adults, and the line they were standing on. Apparently The Sip was a big hang out spot for bored, rich, and beautiful teens. What Skye had told her on the way made it seem a little sleazy, what with its overpriced beverages—nine dollars for a vodka and Coke? _No thanks_—and "promise to hook up". She wasn't really sure what _that_ meant.

The line lurched forward, a swarm of girls in strappy heels stumbled together in a hoard of giggles inside the tall building.

"Lose the cup," Heidi hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "We're next."

"I thought they allowed—"

"Inside," she cut in. "It doesn't matter if you're a minor inside, but it still matters outside. Get rid of it."

Claire sighed forlornly, tossing the paper cup into the bushes to her right. It was still half full; it was such a waste to leave it like that. At least she managed to loosen herself up before she had to get into that place though. She was pretty sure Sober Claire would have turned and gone home by now. After all, that small ball of panic was still calling her stomach home.

Skye turned quickly, her sparkly eye shadow catching in the light. Her face was flushed red, her eyes a little glassy. "You okay, Claire?" she questioned, the ghost of a smile pulling at her lips.

"Perfect," the sophomore replied, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

_I am Mackenzie Daniels_, she thought. _I am Mackenzie Daniels_.

She watched as Sam went first, handing her fake ID card to the bouncer. He barely glanced at it before shoving it back in her grasp and ushering her in. That eased Claire's worries a tenfold. Sam had borrowed that card from an Asian by the name of Megan. If he had noticed that, she would have been done for.

_If they ask, I go to Adelphi and I'm majoring in photography_, she continued to think. _I'm nineteen years old. I was born in May—_

Her thoughts were starting to get a little sluggish. She could hardly remember what she was doing here and was more concerned as to why it was nine, almost ten, at night and she was _out_, not asleep. She had a math test tomorrow. Was this such a good idea?

Before she could even suggest that to Skye, the bouncer was taking her—Mackenzie's—ID out of her hand, giving it a ten second once over and harshly pushing her past him. She kept a tight grip on the plastic, remembering the girl's promise to meet her in the bathroom at ten thirty. She was going to need this back to get to class on Monday, she had said.

Heidi, Sam, Deena, and Skye had waited for her in a semi-circle just by the entrance of the joint. They were doing a last minute makeup and hair fix, using cell phone lights and compacts to apply a bit more blush and gloss.

"It's a shame Derrick wasn't down to come," Heidi was saying, puckering her lips. "Would've been a lot more fun for you, Skye."

The ringleader rolled her eyes. "It's _always_ fun for me," she retorted. "I don't need a boy on my arm. I can find my own to play with. Even if he _is_ really cute."

"What's the deal with that?" Claire asked, briefly wondering if her words were slurring.

Skye grinned, scrunching and tossing her hair before spraying her wrists with her travel perfume. "I like to corrupt boys," she told her, poking her nose. "It's fun when boys know how to do certain things… but I get a kick out of teaching them."

"Ah," Claire said, not like she knew what she was implying there.

"You'll understand eventually," the older girl responded. "I like to play with people." She cleared her throat, popped a piece of gum in her mouth, and linked arms with the fifteen year old. "Come on. Let's go. I have a feeling tonight's going to be a _very _good night."

* * *

><p>Alicia's room smelled like a combination of Vick's vapor rub she didn't need and French vanilla tea.<p>

She had locked herself in here as soon as she could, hiding herself from her parents so they couldn't see her inevitable emotional breakdown. She felt as if she were going to die, to put it simply. Her stomach was knotting in all sorts of directions—and she couldn't even be sure if that was because she was upset or not anymore.

Forcing out a hiccough, the Latina turned in her cocoon of blankets, resting her head on her pillow, catching the tail end of _Legally Blonde _on her television. Elle eventually got her perfect day in the end… did that mean Alicia would too?

"Looking miserable isn't going to bring the results to you any faster."

The sound of her mother's voice scared her so much she jumped. She wished she had given her some kind of warning so she could look _sick_ rather than devastated, but she supposed there was no point in it now. It was tiring to pretend so much anyway.

She didn't respond.

Her lack of enthusiasm didn't deter Nadia Rivera, of course, and the older Spanish beauty leaned her body against the door frame, getting herself comfortable before she continued. "I'm sure you don't have mono. You don't look like you do and I know what that looks like. Had it my junior year of college… I slept for _days_."

_I wish I could sleep for days_, Alicia thought, _or maybe forever._

"Anyway, Derrick's here," her mother announced. "Dinner's going to be done in about a forty five minutes and I know you probably won't want anything too solid, so just tell me if you want food. I'll bring you some soup or something later."

Alicia didn't react to this, merely staring blankly as the credits started to roll on the screen. Nadia was no longer against the door—she could see that much in her peripheral vision—and she heard her quietly speak to Derrick.

"She's been like this all day. Unresponsive, hardly moving. I don't know if she'll talk to you, but it's my best guess that she will. Just… take care of her, alright? And tell me if she needs anything."

"Don't worry, Nadia. I got this."

She liked that he remembered to call her by her first name instead of Mrs. Rivera. He made that mistake last time he was over and Alicia's mother practically flipped. It had been funny then, but now the memory just made her nauseous.

Heels clicked away from her room and her mattress shifted as Derrick placed himself down on it. She hardly acknowledged his existence, keeping her face forward, despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to blurt everything she was feeling at him. She bit down on her lower lip, fisting her blanket.

"Alicia?" Derrick questioned tentatively. She could feel his hesitance, his confusion, without even looking at him. "Are—are you okay?"

"No," she mumbled.

"I'm sure it's going to be fine," he responded. "I mean, so what? You'll miss some school and get to sleep. You'll be refreshed and…"

"It's not… it's not that," Alicia interrupted, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "I—I know I don't have mono."

He frowned. "How? I thought you didn't get the results of the blood test back."

"Because I wasn't being tested for that." Her voice caught in her throat and she lifted her head, ignoring her obvious bed head and swollen eyes. "Will you cuddle with me?" she asked softly, heart pounding violently in her chest.

Derrick blinked at her, a red flush expanding across his face. "I… _what_?"

Alicia looked back at him, her eyes wide. "I mean," she tried to redeem herself, because getting rejected was something she couldn't handle right now, "you don't have to if you don't want to… It's not that big of a deal, I guess. I just… I need a hug or something and… it's not like I can talk to my parents about this because—it's not mono, Derrick. It's not mono and I'm _scared_ because it's not mono…" She was aware that she was starting to babble and she didn't really sound like she was making any sense, but he just didn't _get it_. No one would get it; no one wanted to bother enough to get it.

They didn't like her. They thought she was a slut, or that she was easy, or that she was probably some freak of nature with a sex fetish who begged for it—

"Alicia…" His voice was soft, soft enough to let her down easily. Derrick was nice. Too nice, sometimes, especially when most girls thought he was a jerk.

He wasn't nice enough for this though. She knew it. He didn't want anything to do with her because she was a mess and everyone _hated_ her. He probably just felt bad, pitied her, really, because what else is he supposed to do? She latched herself on to him after some conversation where she blurted her feelings out and he was alarmed and then he couldn't shake her off—

It wasn't _fair_. And now her eyes were welling up with tears and she couldn't _stop_ them. Her chest hurt and her nose was stuffy and everything was blurry, blurry, _blurry_—

But then arms were around her and her head was tucked into a familiar chest, and she was sniffling and fisting at Derrick's shirt, and his chin was resting on the top of her messy, knotty hair, his deep voice whispering soothing words that did nothing but increase her anxiety.

He was warm, so warm, and she was so, so stupid…

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm ruining your s-s-s-s-shirt," she wailed.

"I don't like this one that much," he reassured her, but she knew that was a lie. He always wore this one; it was soft and worn-in, with a little tear by his collarbone. "Just tell me what's wrong. Please. I don't like it when you cry."

"I just want to hide, Derrick, forever because everyone hates me and I suck and—"

"I don't hate you," he breathed, his lips pressing to the top of her head. She hadn't showered in three days and really hoped he didn't notice that her hair was greasy and she was kind of gross. "Just tell me what's bugging you. I want to help."

Alicia sniffled, pressing her face closer to his chest. She could hear his heart beating, could smell his cologne (Calvin Klein?). "My doctor thinks I might be pregnant," she gasped out. That was the first time she said it aloud and it hurt for it to be out in the open like that. It made it about ten times more real.

Derrick was quiet for some time, his fingers running up and down her back in what would have been a soothing manner if she weren't panicking over the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, either.

"From Danny?" he finally questioned.

"Yeah." Alicia's answer is hardly audible.

She felt him swallow. "I'm sure… I'm sure you're not." He sounded kind of scared though, his voice wobbling on the last word.

Alicia didn't understand why he would feel that way. It wasn't like it was _his_ fault she was currently awaiting the results of a pregnancy test. He didn't do anything.

"Who knows?" she muttered—bitterly now, because she hated herself. "God knows I deserve everything I've gotten. This is just the cherry to put on top."

"_What_?" Derrick spluttered.

She wrinkled his nose at his response, but didn't look up, content with the way she was now cuddled into his neck. "I've been such a bad person," she explained. "I made fun of _everyone_. Literally everyone. I thought I was better than them, that I was at the top of everything because—I mean—I'm not ugly or anything and I could afford things most people couldn't and I had parents who, although they weren't around often, loved me… Everyone who wasn't like me I thought was lowly, I guess. And… this is what I get for thinking all of that. This is how I get punished for not treating everyone as an equal—"

"Are you kidding me?" Derrick's voice was deeper, huskier than usual. "You don't… you don't deserve this. _No one_ deserves to be…" He didn't say it, but she knew.

"Maybe _I _do." This is uttered so softly. "Maybe I need to know that I'm not this perfect person who can get away with everything."

"Stop it," Derrick all but growled. "You don't deserve this. You _don't_. Besides, you're not. You're not pregnant and I'm going to beat the shit out of Danny for putting you through all of this because he's a fucking prick."

"Derrick…"

"Look at me," he snapped. Alicia recoiled slightly, but lifted her head. She met his gaze, her wide, sad eyes looking into his. "Stop saying things like that. I don't know why you think you deserve something like this because you don't. Danny is a dick and I'm going to punch him in the face for doing this to you. You're so _sad_ and I can't take it, okay? You might think everyone hates you but you're wrong because I don't and I _won't_. I'm here for you and I'm always going to be here for you and I don't want you to ever be this sad again."

His words made her stop to _really_ look at him, viewing him almost as if she had never seen him before. His hair fell into his face in golden waves, his eyes had the smallest flecks of green in them, freckles dotted the bridge of his nose. She wondered, staring at him, if he had been like this all along: so devoted and loyal and passionate.

Wasn't this just the kid who was known for dropping his pants when he saved a goal? Didn't he used to have purple knees because he refused to wear pants? He laughed at everything, at everyone's blunders and insecurities. He worried about nothing but himself.

But here he was, looking at her with this most intense gaze that made her shiver, worried about _her_ and no one else.

_You might think everyone hates you but I don't and I won't…_

"Alicia, do you understand?" he bit out, unable to contain his anger at the situation. "You're _not_—"

The way her hands gripped his cheeks startled him into silence; he looked at her and she looked at him before pressing her lips against his, his mouth warm and a little bit familiar despite the fact that she had never kissed before in her life.

She felt him reciprocate, and then he pulled away seconds after it started. She knew why. He didn't really like her, but he was there, and he was nice, and—

"Alicia," his voice was just barely above a whisper, "I don't think this is such a good…"

She shook her head, tucking a lock of hair out of her face. "I know, but I just want you to kiss me."

He looked at her for a second, murmuring, "It's going to be okay," before ducking his head and capturing her mouth with his once more.

* * *

><p>The inside of The Sip wasn't anything Claire had expected. From what she had been told, she was preparing herself for some sort of disgusting, hardly-cleaned place with sticky walls and an odor about it. Instead, she got a hall, one that, she learned, was used for graduation parties and weddings. The only things that made it the stereotypically sleazy were the grinding couples and the booths hidden from view; Claire was positive she could see heads moving occasionally, bobbing to their own beat.<p>

She allowed Skye to drag her along, watching as Deena slinked off into the crowd. She wouldn't see her for a while, she knew. The girl was known for getting it in more than once (and by "getting it in" Claire meant _really _getting it in). Deena didn't think she was above bathroom sex. Heidi and Sam had disappeared, too, whispering to each other before the mobs of people swallowed them whole.

"I want to tell you a few things before we split up," Skye was saying, and Claire felt her eyes widen dramatically. _Split up_? Was she _crazy_? "I can tell that I freaked you out by that, so let's have a drink, yeah? It'll calm you down."

"I highly doubt alcohol is going to calm me—"

"Don't worry, I have other methods if it doesn't work." Skye winked at her, flipping her hair over her shoulder while she ordered from the bartender.

The little plastic cups she received in return were so not worth the eighteen dollars she paid, but Claire took the drink regardless. She willed her heart to stop beating so fast as she took a sip—more like a crazy gulp—and looked up at Skye.

The older girl looked perfectly at ease in their surroundings. Her eye shadow sparkled in the light, her hair fell down her back in beautiful waves. Claire wished she could be more like her; she felt so out of her element here, so small.

"There are a few rules to being a DSL Dater."

"Rules?" repeated the sophomore, wrinkling her nose. There were rules for everything, weren't there? Just like with the Pretty Committee and their stupid rating system, their "dibs" on boys despite the fact that hey, he might like _me_, not you, sorry…

She very much wished that she hadn't answered her phone and stayed in bed.

"Yep." Skye nodded. "In case you haven't noticed, the first is we must all be blond. _That_ had been a problem when it was just Sam, Deena, and I because we really wanted Heidi in the group and she was a brunette, but we convinced her."

Claire blinked at her, unable to fathom the fact that a girl would be willing to dye her hair to fit in with a bunch of girls, but she guessed that she had done some pretty stupid things to get the Pretty Committee to like her too. "Right."

"Second, we _always_ flirt. Even if he looks like he has a girlfriend or he's not interested. If there's a boy in the vicinity, bat your eyelashes and throw him a coy little smile. Because if you don't, that's a shame—the only reason boys are on this earth, in my opinion, is to let girls flirt. We should be able to have a little fun, too, no?"

"Yeah, sure," Claire mumbled, taking yet another sip of her drink. It was mixed badly—those bartenders really needed to be given a lesson or two—but she swallowed it down anyway. Anything to rid herself of the jittery butterflies in her stomach. They weren't even the _good_ kind.

"And third: Never spend too much time on one boy. Ten minutes tops, I'd say. Fifteen if he's a good kisser. If you spend all night with the same guy, things tend to get boring, he tends to get clingy, and you end up hating yourself afterwards. You always want to get with at least two boys in the same night because that gives you options. And remember, Claire, _never_ give out your number. You don't want them trying to see you again, in the daylight, when you're not plastered as fuck. Sometimes, they're not as cute as you remembered them to be."

That did nothing to ease Claire's worries. Sure, the first one was a no-brainer since she was already blond, but the other two? She could hardly flirt if she put her mind to it, unable to think of quick, witty, and cute comebacks to the little things boys said. And hook up with _two_ boys? She had to prep herself for months just to kiss Cam! How could she even…

Skye placed her hands on her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "I'm sensing you're panicking. Am I right?"

Claire nodded stupidly, gripping the plastic cup tightly in her hand. If she squeezed any more, the drink would explode, drenching the two of them in Coke and vodka.

"It's easy, Claire." Skye was rummaging through her bag now, biting her bottom lip. "You just have to _let go_. You have to lose everything that Massie"—she sounded completely disgusted here—"was. You're no longer uptight with this stick up your ass, alright? You're free. You're wild. You're _hot_. Here, take these." She looked around before pressing her palm into Claire's, folding her fingers around it. "They'll help you out."

The younger blond's brows furrowed in confusion, looking down to glance at the three little pills. "What…" She couldn't even finish her sentence.

"It's fine. They're not going to do anything to you except help you let go of all your inhibitions." Skye smiled at her before placing her own empty cup on the bar stool behind them. "We've all taken something at one point or another to give us an extra edge."

"I don't think that's a good idea, though," Claire argued, her mind filling with all the things she had learned in health class in previous years.

Wasn't there something about taking pills with alcohol? Or taking pills in _general_? You weren't supposed to, she was pretty sure; that was called pill-popping and people could get easily addicted to the way it made them feel better…

Skye sighed. "You trust me, right?"

Claire couldn't say no to that. She did trust Skye with everything she had. The girl had never led her in the wrong direction yet.

"Then take them," she urged. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I would never do that, Claire. I know we've had a bad past and I'm sorry I tried to kiss Cam, but we're friends now. I consider you the little sister I've never wanted."

She did tell her the things Massie would never tell her, the way the Pretty Committee was starting to lose interest in everything she did. She never once pushed her to talk about the boys she liked and why she liked them and none of the other girls got mad when Claire talked about how cute their boys were. She took her in when Massie and Alicia banished her from the group, teaching her that she didn't have to be friends with the girls everyone adored (and hated). In fact, she taught her that not everyone liked the Pretty Committee anymore. Apparently OCD was practically rejoicing in the absence…

And there was no malice or ill intent in Skye's blue eyes.

So Claire cupped her hand, placing the pills on her tongue, and swallowing them down with the rest of her drink.

Skye clapped happily, patting her on the back, before giving her a gentle shove. _It's time to have fun_, she said.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for letting me come over," Massie mumbled, her hair thrown on the top of her head in a messy bun, a pair of Josh's Briarwood sweatpants hanging off her slender hips.<p>

"Anytime, dear," Gretchen replied, yawning slightly.

It had been weird to have Massie call him at one in the morning on a Thursday, but the hysterical edge in her voice was enough to wake him up completely. He had barged into his mother's room—it was still weird to think that only his mother lived in their anymore—and had woken her up from her slumber, begging her to go pick Massie up from her own house, a good ten minute drive.

Of course Gretchen had complied, hardly asking questions. She acted the same way she did when one of the boys had gotten too drunk and needed to crash at their house: she didn't pry, she didn't parent—she just let it happen. Sometimes, she didn't even bother for the story.

"I didn't mean to bother anyone," Massie continued, sheepishly tugging at her sleeve. "I just… I couldn't be in that house. I was going to explode and Josh was the first person I thought of to call…"

Gretchen smiled, rubbing her eye. "Don't worry about it, honey. I'll go make us some tea." She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Josh and Massie alone in the living room, probably to let them talk. She did that sometimes.

Josh patted the spot next to him on the couch and Massie practically tumbled into it, cuddling into his side. His arm was around her in an instant, pulling her closer. Her nose was cold when it pressed against his skin, but he didn't dare mention it.

"He has a lady friend," she said into his shoulder.

"Will?"

She nodded, prompting him to lean his head on top of hers. "The funny thing is that it's Meg Ryan," she continued, "and I don't know if he knows just how much Olivia and I don't get along, but it's kind of a slap in the face."

"Because of Derrick?"

"Well…" Massie paused. Out of the corner of his eye, Josh saw his mom milling about the kitchen, pulling cups out of the cabinet and grabbing the sugar. "I hadn't thought about it like that, but yeah, I suppose."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to—"

"He brought her with us, Josh," Massie cut him off. "We were going to get a Christmas tree and he _brought her with us_. I have never done anything festive before in my life, which is really sad, I know, so I was excited to go do something with him, but there _she_ was and—I hate her already. I don't even _know_ her and I hate her."

Josh nibbled on his lower lip. "Mass, I…"

"And you know what? I'm pretty sure he wasn't doing all the things he was doing with me just so we could spend some time together. I'm sure he learned how to cook so he could make dinner for _her_ and… and I should have seen it coming. I should have. I'm so stupid for not knowing it was going to happen… God knows my father can't be _alone_…"

"You're not stupid," Josh told her. He didn't really know what else to do; he was never good with this whole consoling thing. It was a miracle he was even saying anything other than _yeah_.

She sniffed. "But I am! I like a guy who wants absolutely nothing to do with me, who already dumped me once, and I thought my father would want to get to know me better before he jumped into another relationship. Oh, Josh, you should have seen the way they looked at each other. You could totally tell they were fucking or something. They weren't just 'friends' like he told me. I just—am so _stupid_."

"You're _not_," Josh insisted. She was so warm against his side and he didn't know what to do. He just wished his mother would appear again—tea always seemed to make everyone feel better.

"You're just saying that." She sniffed. "It's okay if I am. I've made so many stupid mistakes… I've done so many things that this is my karma or something."

"Massie, _stop_." Josh swallowed, wishing he were as good with words as Kemp was. This wouldn't end well, not when he had no idea what to say. "Just… stop saying that, okay? It's not right of him to spring her on you like that, but it's _not your fault_."

Her eyes were wide as she looked at him, obviously not used to his firm tone. "I—deserve this, though, don't I? I've ruined everyone else's lives so mine should be just as shitty as theirs, right?"

"Why do you keep making yourself out to be such a terrible person?" Because really, he was curious. When did Massie Block start to put herself down? She loved herself the most.

She swallowed, playing with the fraying strings at the end of her sweater. "Because I am?" she replied, more of a question than anything else. "I'm not sure if you've put me on some sort of pedestal or something, but do you really not see it?"

Josh didn't answer. What was he even supposed to say? _Hey, yeah, I'm well aware you're a bitch_? That just didn't seem very comforting. But the thing was… it wasn't like she was the only one. Everyone had their moments; granted, Massie had more of them, but he'd like to consider it "brutal honesty". Brutal honesty that usually made girls cry because she had no filter, but brutal honesty all the same.

"See? You know just as well as I do."

"That doesn't mean you deserve for your family to crumble right in front of you," Josh argued, feeling himself get more and more frustrated by the minute. "That doesn't mean _anything_. Massie, you're a great person."

"I'm sure I am."

"_You are_."

"Prove it." Her eyes held this glint, a challenging—daring—twinkle.

He shifted to face her, knees pressed uncomfortably up against hers. His couch wasn't made for this type of talk and with all the time gone by, his mother must have made everyone in America tea and hand-delivered it to their doors.

With one last glance at his kitchen (no, seriously: where did she even _go_?), he opened his mouth to speak, hoping he wouldn't sound as idiotic as he knew he was going to. "You're always there for your friends, even when it doesn't concern you, and you'll probably always have their backs even if they do something so stupid that it'll make even you look bad. You care about a lot of things despite the fact that you don't try to show it because you don't want to look too vulnerable. I've never seen someone have the compassion you do towards animals—I'm pretty sure you'd take any type of one off the street if they needed a home—"

"—I did that with a cat once," Massie interrupted him, her cheeks tinged with the palest pink. "He was all skin and bones and looked hungry, so I literally just picked him up and brought him into the house. Kendra _flipped_."

"See?" Josh poked her nose. "You're not a terrible person."

"That was an _animal_, Josh. I'm a terrible person to people."

"Not to me," he retorted, "or any of the other guys. Even when you were supposed to hate me and Cam, you let us into your house."

She shrugged. "It was raining."

"And you could've let us walk home and freeze and probably get pneumonia and die."

"I wanted to," she admitted. "After everything that happened, I wanted to just leave you guys there, but I knew it was impolite of me to do so when it was raining. I probably would've if it were only drizzling, but it was pouring…"

"If you had done this, we wouldn't be friends right now, Massie. We wouldn't even be talking."

The brunette wrinkled her nose, amber-eyed gaze set straight on the ground. "I wouldn't want that," she murmured, voice so low he almost missed it.

"Me either," he agreed, leaning his head on her shoulder. It was kind of awkward—and by kind of, he meant _very_—because she was so much shorter than him, but he felt her put her cheek against him in return. "You're not awful; I hope you know that, because I'm running out of things to say without babbling."

"I could be nicer."

"You could." He nodded. "But if you were, you wouldn't really be you, would you?"

She snorted. "Are you trying to tell me I should stay bitchy, Joshua?"

A deep chuckle escaped his lips. "Not particularly. I'm just saying you shouldn't change who you are."

"A lot of people think I should," she told him. "Everyone at OCD is sick of my attitude."

"Yeah, well, I think you're great, so that's all that matters."

"I think you're great, too," she replied, yawning ever so slightly. "Probably the greatest." Her words started to slur together, drowsiness taking over.

(By the time Gretchen came back in the room, Massie and Josh had fallen asleep, her curled up around him, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her from falling off the couch.

She took a picture, of course.)

* * *

><p>He didn't like her at all.<p>

He had eyes the darkest of blues. If she looked hard enough, she could pick out the lies, start to unravel his very being, but she wasn't interested. His hair was blond and soft; her fingers liked to tug at it. His lips were soso_so_ pink and soso_so_ good.

She liked that he didn't care about her. She liked the way he had gripped her hips, shoved her against the dirty wall so hard she was bound to bruise. There was no hesitation, no unspoken questions. He just went for it, tongue licking into her mouth.

("I'm Claire."

"I'm Colt."

"Okay.")

Fingers were slipping up her skirt, chilly against her warm skin. Nothing was screaming at her to slap them away—she _wanted_ this, she could feel it. In fact, it was starting to get hotter down there. With every touch of his fingertips to her skin, she felt bursts of heat. Her heart picked up; he was tugging at her underwear now (thank _god_ she wore the lacy pair) and slipping beneath it, touching, touching, touching—

A sound she was unaware she could create was swallowed by his mouth. Her hips jerked forward sloppily at first before creating a rhythm that made her feel so good. She pulled away from his face, instead focusing on his neck—she wanted to do _something_ with her mouth that wasn't that—nibbling, sucking.

It continued for a while, this weird interaction, and Claire felt herself get heated, heated, heated. She opened her eyes for the briefest of seconds, looking out on the crowded dance floor, catching the gaze of some other kid (cute face…_very_ cute face), and the next thing she knew, she was untangling herself from Colt, pulling her skirt down, and leaving without a word.

After all, she wasn't mean to stay with him forever.

* * *

><p>"Here."<p>

Kristen glanced up at Kemp, eyebrows furrowing despite the immense pain she was feeling. "I'm not making you steak, Hurley."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking you to. Put it on your face."

"Put… _steak_ on… my face?" she questioned, treating him as if he were a five year old. "That's unsanitary and probably very stupid."

"My mom used to put it on my black eyes when I'd get hit in the face during baseball season. It helps with the swelling or something."

Kristen merely pursed her lips, glaring at the meat in distaste.

"Or, you know, you could just continue to look like you got the shit beat out of you… oh. _Wait_."

She practically growled, slapping the piece of beef on to her face, making sure the paper towel was saving her skin from touching cow. "Has anyone told you how sweet and caring you are?"

"All the time," he replied without missing a beat. "It's going to help, though. I'm not doing this for fun or anything."

"Everything is funny to you."

"Not this."

She quirked the eyebrow above her good eye, every question in the world ready and poised on the tip of her tongue. She could have asked a multitude of things, but instead, ever so eloquent, she blurted: "What?"

"Guys aren't supposed to hit girls," Kemp told her, straddling his chair. "We've been taught that since day one. I don't like it when they do and I especially don't like it when those girls are my friends."

"It wasn't a big—"

"It was," he cut her off, a serious expression on his face. "Girls are not supposed to get punched in the face. They're supposed to be pretty and soft and perfect, not covered in bruises because some guy is a major douche, which Danny is. I wouldn't listen to anything he said to you."

Holding the steak gingerly, Kristen shook her head. "He said some things I'm sure are a hundred percent true."

"Like what?"

"That no one wants me—_us_—at Briarwood."

"See, I don't know where he's getting that." Kemp rubbed at her eye and for the first time, Kristen noticed he looked so tired, so tired and old. "We've been going to school with each other for years and then some girls come in, mixing up the whole only boys dynamic we've had going on. I know a number of people who are thrilled you guys are here. After all, you're all hot."

"…thank you, I think?"

"I'm telling the truth. The guys who don't like you being here are in my opinion either gay or idiots. Cam says they just don't like change and things being different, but I'm gonna stick with them being gay."

Kristen blinked. "Well… we're not exactly being treated as nicely as Dean Don promised we would and I've already talked it over with the rest of the girls and we're probably going to see if we can go to a different school next year…"

"_No_," he burst out, startling the dirty blond so much she jumped in her seat. "You can't leave."

"The bullying is getting out of hand," she told him. "The other day, Dylan found Alicia sobbing in the nurse's office. I'm sick and tired of these guys who don't want us here teaming up and making us feel like shit. And if Danny's not against beating _me_ up, who knows what anyone else will do? I don't want Alicia or Dylan or Massie to have to sit with meat on their face like I am."

"We wouldn't let that happen," Kemp ground out.

"You already did," Kristen pointed out. She felt a bit bad for making it sound like that, but it was true. His determination and drive were cute, really. This year must've changed all of them in many different ways however how were the boys supposed to know when they were in trouble? The Pretty Committee hardly mentioned when they were feeling stressed let alone threatened.

"I had no idea this was going to happen." Kemp's voice was nothing more than a snarl, his eyes dark. "And I feel like shit for letting it get as far as it did. I can assure you that it will never happen again."

"It won't," she agreed, "because we're going to leave."

"You _can't_ leave," he insisted. "You can't just _go_, Kristen."

She licked her lips, grimacing at the taste of dried blood. "Why not, Kemp? Do you want this to escalate?"

"No, but I don't want you to leave. Isn't that like giving up? Massie won't stand for that."

"She will when we're all in trouble," Kristen retorted. "Why does this matter so much to you?"

"Because I like you guys!" he snapped, shoving his chair into the table as he stood. "I know we haven't exactly gotten along and we've all acted like dicks at one point or another, but that's because we _like_ you. We're doing a lot of things you don't know we are—Plovert's gotten his ass kicked on numerous accounts because he's defended you guys without even thinking about it. Derrick has control over the entire sophomore class; they don't say _anything_ when he's around. I—we—don't want you to leave because there are a group of kids who don't want you here. You shouldn't give them the satisfaction. We can protect you."

As dumbstruck as Kristen was, she still managed to reply, "We don't need protection."

This was how the boys felt? When did their friendship turn so serious? In fact, when did everything turn out like this? They were only in high school and here Kemp was, telling her she needed protection, and boys threatening her so she'd leave a school…

She had never expected any of this to happen.

"You need someone to look out for you, Kristen. I'm not about to let Danny Robbins touch you again. He's not even allowed to come _near_ you."

"Kemp, I don't think—"

"I don't know how it feels to care about someone, Kristen," he told her, hiding his face in the fridge, rummaging around for something or another. "I don't have any siblings. I don't have anyone I'd die for except for D, Cam, Plovert, and Josh. Then you and the rest of your silly Committee came along and we got to know each other and I realized that there for more people for me to do anything for. I guess that's what caring for someone is, but I'm still not really sure. All I know is that you and Mass and Dyl and Leesh… you're all like little sisters to me. I can't stand the fact that people are going out of their way to make you feel unwanted—and I know for a fact that the rest of the guys feel the same."

He didn't turn around. He just stood there with his head now in the freezer, leaving Kristen to gape at his back like a fish out of water. Out of everyone, Kemp was the last person to say this. Cam, definitely. Maybe even Josh, but Kemp…

He was supposed to be the player of the group, the one who didn't care about girls or their feelings. At least, that's the persona he gave off when they all met at the end of the eighth grade. What had happened since then? What had happened during the summer and the months leading up to their reunion? _Who_ was he?

"I scared you, didn't I?"

His words startled her back into reality and Kristen realized the steak was slipping off her face. "N-no," she stammered. "I just… never expected…"

"We lost you guys once—for, like, four months, but whatever—we're not about to do it again."

"You sound like we're some sort of dysfunctional family."

He turned to meet her gaze, looking pinker than usual. "That's because we are."


	34. thirty three

i'm sorry this took so long, but college is such a hassle! i hope you guys haven't forgotten about me- this chapter has the goods! ;)

i'll try to update quicker next time. just.. don't hold me to it.

tell me if you like it, love it, hate it, want to kill anyone; i'm all ears.

xx

* * *

><p><strong>to<strong>: massie block, dylan marvil, kristen gregory, derrick harrington, cam fisher, josh hotz, kemp hurley, chris plovert  
><strong>from<strong>: alicia rivera  
>Have fun tonight, guys! I'm sorry I can't be there but if you need any help, you know my number xx<p>

* * *

><p>"I can't wear <em>that<em>," Dylan stressed, pulling at her messy ponytail. "It's beyond freezing out!"

"That's why we're drinking before the walk." Kristen gestured to the glass bottle of Skyy vodka sitting atop her dresser as if it weren't totally illegal for her to have it. "I'm sure one or two—"

"—or five—" Massie interrupted with a slight giggle, perusing the articles of clothing the three girls had pulled together for the occasion. This one outfit was _so_ important; they couldn't look like they did every other time they went out at a _college party_. Although it wasn't really a college party, per se, it was being held by Harris Fisher, Westchester's coveted, and he really knew how to throw a rager.

Kristen rolled her eyes. "Or _five_," she corrected, "will do the trick."

The redhead pouted her lips, cracked and free of gloss, before holding a tight black skirt to her body. "Do you think I'd even look good in this? My ass is huge."

"Dyl, your ass is great," Massie responded, hardly looking up from the pile of clothes strewn across Kristen's bed. "Should I wear a dress or jeans?"

"But… what would I even wear it with? I don't think tight skirts are my thing anymore…" Dylan cocked her head in the full-sized mirror, trying her hardest not to wrinkle her nose in disgust. "It's too cold for anything cute, y'know?"

Kristen tossed a white crop top sweater her way, hitting the girl straight in the head. "This would look good. It might even be long enough to tuck into the skirt."

"What about my legs—"

"Tights, definitely." Massie pulled her shirt off to shimmy into a dress she thought she once before saw hanging in the blond's closet. "Add color to the outfit with your shoes. I'd recommend those blue platform heels over there."

Dylan sighed, rubbing under her eye where her mascara started to run. "I don't know, you guys…"

"Try it on before you decide you don't like it!" Kristen suggested, pursing her lips to apply a layer of Massie's lipstick. "Oooh, red is so not my color."

"If you try the red Baby Lips, that one might fit your face," the brunette suggested, pulling her hair out of the back of her top. With a little twirl, she smoothed down the skirt, turning towards her friends. "Yay or nay?"

It was a really pretty piece and she was sure Kristen had never worn it. Or if she had, Massie never noticed. The back was all lace and open as was the shoulders and sleeves. The rest of it was the same plum color as the lace, but solid, flowing nicely to settle just above her knees.

"Different bra for sure, but I give it a ten."

"Same," Dylan agreed, pulling a pair of black tights up her legs. "Looks adorable."

Massie frowned, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Is adorable going to cut it tonight?"

"Why wouldn't it?" the redhead asked. "I mean, are you trying to get it in or something? I'm sure Cam would be willing to do anything with you even if you were wearing a paper bag."

The brunette shrugged, placing herself on the bed, pulling two different shoes on her feet. "I don't even know what's going on with me and Cam… We haven't texted in a while, if I'm being honest."

Kristen eyed her, tugging on a colored tube top. "I'm not doing this to get you angry but—have you been talking to Derrick instead of him?"

Massie turned around so her two best friends wouldn't see her cheeks which she was pretty sure were starting to redden. "Um, a little bit?" To keep from looking at them, she started to mess with her hair, trying to figure out how to wear it when she was already positive she'd put it up in some artfully messy bun or ponytail. "It's mainly only about Alicia, though… I'm pretty sure he likes her or something."

The room was silent for a second, the only sounds being One Direction's new album on a loop. It wasn't until Dylan tried to stifle a cough that they went back to normal.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Kidding about what?" Massie responded. "Hey, I like this song. Turn it up."

Kristen shared a look with Dylan before raising the volume on her iHome. "About Derrick…"

"What about him?"

"That he likes—" Kristen trailed off, shaking her head. "You know what? Never mind."

"Okay." Massie continued to fuss with her hair until her face was back to its normal color. She wished she could be a bit more tanned, wished her father had decided to go to some hot destination instead of staying in Westchester. She spun around when she was good to go, looking her friends in the eye to prove that nothing had affected her in the first place. "So, Dyl, do you like that outfit or do you need help picking something else out?"

"I think I might actually like this." Dylan grinned at her, looking flawless as ever in the sweater-skirt combo the girls had thrown together for her. "Here's the new problem, though: What do I do with my hair and makeup?"

Kristen, now buttoning her skinny jeans, top tucked into them, turned to look at her, humming lightly along to _Loved You First_. "I'd say leave it the way it is. You know, all curly and wild like that—it's sexy, not gonna lie. And I mean, don't put too much makeup on. You'll probably just sweat it all off."

"Yeah," Massie agreed, "I'm only wearing mascara and cover up. Which shoe?"

Dylan tapped her finger against her lip. "Left."

"Kris?"

"I was feeling the right. They give you an edgier look."

The brunette sighed, looking down at her feet. "I think I feel more comfortable in the right," she admitted. "Like, I trust myself to be drunk in them and _not_ fall on my face."

"That's all that matters in the end," responded Dylan, pulling her makeup bag out of her duffle. "And speaking of being drunk, can we start now?"

Massie nodded eagerly. "Please? I'm already starting to get antsy about this party and we're not even close to being there or ready yet."

Kristen closed her bedroom door—just a precaution; her parents weren't home and wouldn't be for some time. Apparently they were going on some sort of date with each other—and placed the three shot glasses she had on her desk.

"Ten minutes?" she asked. "I just want to finish my hair and makeup before I get too sloppy."

"True, true…" Dylan opened her eyes wide, brushing her mascara wand against her lashes. "What are you doing with yours?"

"Curling it," Kristen replied, heating up the iron to mess with her blond locks. "Probably pulling the front back too."

The redhead sighed. "That'll take _forever_," she moaned. "Can I just take a shot by myself?"

"That's no fun!" Massie exclaimed, bending over to pull her hair up. She made sure to let some pieces fall to frame her face before tying it together. "Kris won't take too long, Dyl. We can take really obnoxious selfies while we wait for her."

That seemed to lighten up Dylan's sullen mood; she capped her gloss, squeezed her lips together, and scurried over to Kristen's open Mac where Massie was already taking pictures of her own face. Kristen rolled her eyes playfully at them, turning to her mirror to start making the ends of her hair spirals.

* * *

><p>Derrick didn't know what was in this punch. He couldn't taste any alcohol in his cup, just the lemonade mix Harris and Patrick had used. He knew this was bad—anytime he could easily drink without feeling the harsh taste of the liquor he would continue to have far too much ultimately ruining his night in the end.<p>

Whatever. He liked it. God knew he needed to get completely shitfaced tonight and it would be perfectly okay if he threw up a few thousand times.

He didn't care that most people on the soccer team were going to keep it easy tonight or that half of them didn't even bother go out. It didn't matter to him that their big championship game was the next day. In fact, that was the exact reason he wanted to get this obliterated.

It wasn't like him to get nervous. He was the cocky goalie with all the talent, the one that should be captain but could never because his father was the coach. There was nothing that made him antsy about the game anymore. Not even the name of the school they were competing against irked him.

But…

His stomach was rolling. His hands were shaking; in order to keep from spilling all over the place, he had to grip the plastic so tightly his knuckles turned white. It was hot, then it was cold, then it was hot again.

It made no sense. Briarwood had made it to championships time and time again. He had been on the team last year, saved the ball that would have cost them the game, and was a hero for—well—forever.

Last year, he didn't have anything to take him away from the game, to distract him, to fill his mind with thoughts. Clear minds were better in the zone, that's what his father always told him. What if he wasn't adequate enough because he was basically swimming in thoughts and doubts? What if he missed _everything_ and they lost?

No, no, no; he couldn't think of that. He'd get so much shit from his father…

_Just drink_, he ordered himself. If he was drunk enough, he wouldn't have to think. He wouldn't have to do anything. He could just sit.

Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. _Sit_—

"Whoa, dude." That was Josh's voice. Okay, hey, man. "I'd slow down if I were you… that's gotta be the fifth cup I've seen you drink tonight."

Derrick glanced over at him, cocking an eyebrow. It tried to pretend that he wasn't seeing two—or three—of at least everything by blinking a few extra times. "So?" he responded, hoping the one syllable word didn't come out as slurred and messed up as it was in his head.

"Um." Josh took his hat off his head, mussing up his hair. "We've been here for twenty minutes."

"Leave me alone," he mumbled, turning on his heel. Just because Josh wasn't drinking tonight didn't mean he had to put a damper on Derrick's mood.

"Derrick, stop." His friend's hand was out in a second, pulling him back into the kitchen.

A wave of annoyance—or was it nausea?—flooded through the blonde's body. He didn't want to stay in the same room for too long. Being completely immobile made him feel… weird, different. It was probably the alcohol running through his system, but whatever the cause he just wanted to walk, run, skip—_fly_. Anything and everything was better than being still and thinking. Thinking was the worst.

If only Josh would let go.

"I don't want to stop, I just want to _go_." Derrick tried to shake himself free, but it was no use. Either Josh got stronger or he had really underestimated his friend to begin with. "Seriously, dude, fuck off."

"No," the Italian ground out, forceful in his words. "I know you're nervous. I know you have a lot on your mind and you think your life is fucked up, but drinking until you can't see straight—or even pronounce words—is not the answer, Derrick. Give me the cup."

To spite him, because Derrick was not about to lose his drink, he tilted his head back, letting the lemonade flavor travel down his throat. Once he was done, he licked his lips rather obnoxiously, shoving his cup into Josh's hand.

"I'm not nervous," he snapped, turning around. "Don't try to figure me out."

"I'm not trying—" Josh cut off, scoffing. "You know what? When you're done being a dick, come back and talk to me."

Derrick rolled his eyes, about make his way elsewhere, hoping to find Plovert or Kemp in attempts to actually start to have a good time. He wasn't even two feet away, just about to push what looked like Skye Hamilton's friend with the busted nose out of the way when he heard it: The sweet, melodic voice that did nothing but bring pain and suffering into his life as of late.

"Josh!"

He could really use another drink.

Pronto.

Or maybe he just wanted to see her, which was likely. Drunk Derrick—which he was, very much so—always wanted to see her. Talk to her. Talk _about _her. He hated himself for it. Everyone else did, too, but he could care less.

It was always about Massie. It was always fucking about Massie.

And without even a second thought, he spun around, forgetting that he wanted to _get away_ from Josh just so he could see her. Because he was pathetic.

He could hardly see much; everything was blurry, even when he tried to make things as clear as possible. He was aware of Dylan, Kristen, and Massie, though—they always had some sort of air about them that made it impossible to ignore. It was like they brought life to the party or something.

"Oh, hey," he greeted, acting as if he hadn't deliberately changed his course to see them. Without looking in Josh's direction, he grabbed yet another cup, filling it up with whatever he could find around him. "When did you get here?"

Dylan shrugged. "About five minutes ago?"

"Ah."

"How long have you guys been here?" Kristen asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Derrick saw Josh—ugh, just _leave_—press a red cup into her hands.

He couldn't answer because he really didn't know. Josh had said twenty minutes before, he remembered, but, really, he thought he was being dramatic. They had to have been there for an hour, maybe more. Twenty minutes just seemed too short. Then again, he wasn't really sure. Everything was blurry.

_Blurry_.

He brought his own cup to his lips, glancing out into the living room, where everyone was dancing. Harris had pushed all of the couches against the walls in order to give the entire fucking school more room, but it still looked packed as hell in there.

"Uh… half hour, I think," Josh responded. Derrick could feel his eyes on him, judging the amount of alcohol he consumed in that short time. "Not long at all."

"I'm glad you guys were here when we got here," Massie said, causing the blonde to jerk his head up and look over in the one direction he was trying to ignore. "I don't really know what to do…"

Derrick mentally groaned, wishing he hadn't looked over, hadn't decided to turn back into the kitchen. Now that his gaze was focused on her—on everything about her—he was stuck… especially since she was holding eye contact, almost as if she knew what kind of effect she (still) had on him.

Josh chuckled. "Massie Block, not know what to do?"

And she was speaking again; her lips were moving, but no sound was reaching his ears. He wanted to hide behind his cup again, to do something, _anything_—but it was like his mind wasn't connecting with his body and he was stuck there, useless. Awkward.

Why did she have to look so good? Why was she wearing that fucking dress? Why was he _here_? Why did life suck? Why was the alcohol not doing anything?

* * *

><p>It probably wasn't very good that he had lost his friends so soon after the liquor had hit him. There was no one there to keep his mind off of it, to keep him occupied long enough to stop himself from potentially embarrassing himself a hundred and ten percent.<p>

But that tended to happen to him at parties like these… or parties in general, really.

He was always the first one to wander off. Sometimes he and Kemp would find other things to do that didn't involve pining over girls or being melodramatic, but even then, the two would part at some point. It was usually when things weren't going the way they had planned; Kemp would have to go puke and Chris wouldn't want to wait around the bathroom for him or there would be some sort of drinking game one of them was interested in that the other wasn't.

This time, it was very much different.

As soon as the party fully started (meaning the house was filling rapidly) they had all gone their separate ways. Derrick had made a beeline for the drinks, Cam had been pulled around by Harris, 'hosting', Josh followed Derrick quickly after he noticed where he went, texting away on his phone, Kemp had been dragged into some sort of powwow with the only DSL Dater anyone could stand.

That left Chris alone almost ten minutes into the party—destined to be the Party of the Year—and he spent a good majority of that time getting as wasted as possible. It wasn't his intention, but he was uncomfortable without his friends around and it seemed like the only thing to do that wouldn't make him look like a loser.

And then, well—

Maybe he shouldn't have.

_No_. He definitely shouldn't have… but there was no turning back now.

He already dialed the number, the thought plaguing his mind for quite some time now.

This was supposed to be his night. If she had come, if she hadn't been sick, he knew he would've done _something_. Maybe not what he was dying to do, but anything… even that meant just talking, making it known that he was _there_, not just in the sidelines, but up front.

Everything was not about Derrick Harrington. Sure, he was a hell of a lot more charismatic than Chris was, always throwing himself out there without a second thought, but he wasn't the only person in the world. If only girls could see that.

If only _Alicia_ could see that.

But if she liked him… why would she even want to—oh my god, why was he calling her? He should just—

"Chris?"

_Oh my fucking god, she answered_.

_Oh my fucking god, what am I supposed to say? I didn't plan this out, I don't—_

"Chris, are you okay?"

And because he was very articulate: "Uh."

Alicia was silent for a second, just her intake of breath all he could hear. "Do you need help? Is anyone in trouble? Should I go to Cam's? It isn't that far of a walk and—"

It was beyond adorable that she was so worried about her friends. Literally, that was all his mind could comprehend. She was sick—or getting over being sick—and she was willing to walk the however many blocks it was to Cam's just to help her drunk friends. Precious.

"—anyone can stay here, really. I would just have to get around Joyce. She doesn't know we drink and stuff, but I've been finding ways around her since I was thirteen, so it shouldn't be that hard… No guestrooms though, but I'm sure no one would mind crashing on my floor. The girls can obviously sleep in my bed, but—"

Her rambling was the cutest thing he had ever heard and that wasn't just his drunk mind's opinion. Whenever she got passionate about something, she talked so quickly, trying to prove her point. This was no exception and he loved that about her. It took him all of his strength to interrupt her: He could listen to her talk forever if he had to, but it would be pointless for her to continue.

"No," he spoke, surprised at his confidence to form a coherent sentence. Granted, it was a just a word, but it was a start.

She paused. "No? What do you mean _no_?"

"Nothing's wrong is what I mean," he answered, scratching the back of his neck. The porch step soon became his seat of choice because everything was starting to spin when he stood. "Like, no one's in trouble. Not that I know of."

"Then…" Alicia trailed off; he could see her now, wrinkling her nose in confusion. "Why did you call? If nothing's wrong… shouldn't you be off, having fun? Y'know, not on the phone with me?"

Chris sort of felt like he was going to throw up—from the alcohol or his nervous stomach, he didn't know. It was all he could do to take a deep, cleansing breath and look around the backyard before answering. Was calling her a bad idea? Should he have pushed the urge to the back of his mind and hung around the party longer?

Fuck.

Cam's yard was completely empty save for the about seven people he was completely aware of. There could have been more, but he didn't know where they were. Four of them were giggly girls on the hammock, gripping their cups and talking so quickly and slurred he couldn't make it out. Another two were on the trampoline, doing god knows _what_. All he saw was moving heads and heard the canvas squeak with their actions. The last he saw vaguely by the bushes at the far off corner accompanied with the pungent stench of weed. There had to be more with that kid.

Even observing the other people, those that had no idea he was there, didn't help. He still felt nauseous. He still felt like he was being stupid. He felt as if he shouldn't have let his desire to talk, to hear Alicia win over his conscious. Hanging up would be stupid at this point, not to mention rude…

"No," he said again and this time he had no idea what came over him. This definitely was not the Chris Plovert he knew (and sometimes hated), but it came out anyway. "I shouldn't."

"What?" she questioned. "Why not?"

He swallowed, the words falling off the tip of his tongue as quickly as he thought of them. "Because I like talking to you more."

She was silent for a moment and he wondered (more like panicked) if he shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have put himself so far out there. The ball was in her court now. She could take it and score, or just let it sit there until the time ran out.

Chris really didn't know how he felt about that.

And then: "I like talking to you too."

Her words warmed his stomach in a way alcohol could never.

* * *

><p>"I am so frazzled," Claire muttered into the phone, blotting concealer on the monster hickies she had on her neck. Colt and those other kids from last night really liked to bite and suck there… not that she was complaining.<p>

But still, she didn't like the fact that everyone judged her the one time she left her house to get froyo. So what if she had bruises on her skin? Why should she be the one to get strange looks? At least she got some.

"Pills," Skye answered after a beat. "They'll calm you down."

"Which ones?" the younger blonde asked, sparing a glance towards her closed—and locked—bedroom door. "Do you think it'll be a good idea to take them?"

It sounded like Skye was putting on shoes or changing her shirt. "Yeah," she responded, "we're going to Harris' house party, so you'll want to be as relaxed as possible. Your ex-posse will be there."

Claire groaned, rolling her eyes in the mirror. If that was the case, she would need a lot more than just a few pills to get her through the night. She hated those girls. They basically ruined her. If Skye hadn't come along when she did, she'd probably be hitting rock bottom. Look at them all now: They were wrecks, falling from their position at the top of the popularity totem pole. Sad.

"Not looking forward to that."

"I am," Skye giggled, the grin ever-so present in her voice. "Tonight's the night I finally sink my claws into Derrick… and I'm gonna need you to be on top of your game, okay? Distraction is key."

"Right, right," Claire sighed, opening her door and padding through the hallway to the bathroom in between the linen closet and Todd's room. She flipped the light, opened the medicine cabinet, and took a step back, observing the bottles for the right one. She would definitely need this.

"I have a very good feeling about tonight," Skye admitted. "Also, my ass looks fantastic in this skirt, so he can't possibly even _think_ of denying me."

Claire nodded, pulling old prescriptions of her mother's out of the cabinet. No one would ever notice these were gone… and she'd be relaxed enough to start contemplating an outfit for the party they were already almost an hour late to. But the thing was…

"Percocet or codeine?"

"Hmm…" Skye thought over it, probably tapping her lip—which had yet to be glossed otherwise she would never touch it—in the mirror as she checked herself out. "Definitely Percocet. That stuff is _phenomenal_. It makes everything so great."

"Okay." Claire shrugged, spilling two, then three, into her hand, popping them into her mouth and swallowing them quickly with help of some water from the faucet. "Let's hope it does the trick."

"It will," Skye promised. "Now, tell me what you're planning on wearing. Deena's already at the party. She says it's fucking crazy…"

* * *

><p>Josh didn't really want to watch over his friends, but it was what was starting to happen. If he hadn't chosen to remain sober, he would definitely not be in this boat. But he had made the wise decision—the only one who <em>had<em>—and he was stuck picking up their drunk pieces as they wandered off.

His main concern was Derrick… with good reason. He wasn't being overly protective or watchful, the blonde had literally drank far too much in such a short span and it was because he was nervous, no matter what he told him otherwise.

And, well…

"I wouldn't talk to him right now if I were you," he advised the petite brunette at his side.

Massie, Dylan, and Kristen had arrived about ten minutes ago and while the other two had disappeared, the alpha stayed with Josh. He didn't mind at all: He liked her being around just as much as he liked about anything else. He felt very, very comfortable with her which was good especially since he was rarely comfortable with anything these days.

If she were sober like he was, maybe he would've finally opened his mouth and told her about all the shit that was going on in his life. He didn't know if he should be sad or not about the fact that she wasn't; he didn't know if he felt ready to spill it.

So he focused on the one safe thing: her little crush on Derrick.

That was safe. That was good. Maybe later he could tell her about his father leaving and his mother finding out… First, Massie would have to find out, but that was a bridge he'd cross when he got there. _If_ he got there.

"Why not?" she questioned, light gazed trained on the goalie, who was basically living in the makeshift bar. He was going to hate himself later.

"He's…" Josh paused, trying to find the right words. "…not okay right now. And I don't think you want to get wrapped up in that."

Massie cocked her head to the side, sipping her drink—rum and Coke, he made it for her—out of the straw. "What do you mean 'he's not okay'?"

"Mass, we got here like not even twenty minutes before you did and he's already on his—I'd say—fifth drink. He's on the road to shitfaced."

The girl wrinkled her nose. "I mean, it is a party, Josh."

"We have the big game tomorrow and I don't think being hungover will be good for him…"

"_Oh my god_!" Massie squealed, her voice a much higher pitched than he was used to. He guessed that's what alcohol did to her—everything was exciting and she was giddy. "I totally forgot!" She now turned to face Josh full-on, her intense staring of Derrick ending. "What time is that again? Also, where is it?"

Josh half-smiled at her. "You're coming?"

"Of course I am, silly," she replied. "My bestest friend is playing in it. It would be rude of me not to go!"

"Also the boy you like…" the Italian teased, enjoying the way her cheeks reddened at his words. It was so funny when she got embarrassed.

"Shh. Not important." Massie poked his stomach, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. Like _that_ would do anything to him. "Tell me the details so I can go!"

In retaliation, he nudged her nose with his index finger, practically giggling when she flung her head back at his touch. "You won't even remember this come tomorrow."

"Yes, I will!" she defended, crossing her arms over her chest, drink sloshing against the side of her cup. "Oops."

Josh rolled his eyes, responding anyway: "Seven thirty. The field at the community college about a half an hour away."

"Right." Massie nodded. "I knew that."

"I'm sure you—" But Josh's next statement was cut off by what sounded like a very pissed off Kemp.

"DUDE, LET GO OF _ME_," the teen snarled. "I DON'T NEED YOU TO HOLD ME LIKE I'M A RABID ANIMAL."

Derrick's older brother, Patrick, snorted, looking from the boy he was clutching the arm of to his kin, who was still in the room. Josh thought he'd left by now. "You're yelling, Hurley," he explained slowly, "and you're nowhere near those kids anymore. I think you need to take a deep breath and cool down."

He and Harris deposited him in front of Massie and Josh, the eldest Harrington greeting the two of them before heading over to Derrick's spot _still _by the bar. One could only hope he hadn't drunken himself to death.

"Watch him, Joshua," Cam's older brother ordered. "I don't want any funny business, do you hear me? I'm not looking to have this party broken up by the cops."

Josh cocked an eyebrow. "It's going to…"

"Well, this soon, I mean," Harris replied. "Keep an eye on this one. Got it?"

"That's what I'm here for." Josh sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Behind them, Patrick had cornered Derrick and it looked as if he were speaking to him harshly about something or other. Josh hoped that he was getting it through the younger boy's head that he should _calm down_. If he didn't… well, Josh didn't want to have to think about that. Or deal with the consequences that were sure to pop up.

Shaking his head, he turned back to see Kemp animatedly telling Massie a story she probably couldn't comprehend. It wasn't that she was _that_ drunk—she wasn't—it was that Kemp was speaking a mile a minute, hands flying all over the place. Even Josh couldn't keep up.

What was he talking about?

But that didn't matter to him at all. What he really wanted to know was why Kemp had to be dragged out of wherever he was.

It seemed that his friend had the same idea, too, for he stopped short, leaving Massie frowning, and turned towards Josh. He didn't even have to ask. "Ridder is here. With his friends."

His stomach dropped to his feet and he almost felt as if he were about to puke. He knew it wasn't logical to have this reaction to this group of kids; they weren't important. They wouldn't amount to anything… but he was still starting to get extremely anxious and jittery.

They couldn't… they couldn't pull anything at this party. It wouldn't be like the last. He was _sober_.

"So you had to pick a fight with them?" he questioned coolly. He could handle this. He could. He could. He could.

Kemp blinked, almost as if he were confused. "They were talking about you."

"Who was talking about you?" Massie interrupted, wiggling in between them. "Why would anyone talk about you?"

A tiny bubble of panic started to build in all of Josh's important organs. He could feel his heart start to beat erratically. His—well, he didn't know what any of his other body parts were doing, but he wanted to run, run, run. This was not how he wanted Massie to find out about this and if Kemp even so much as brought—

"James Ridder, Owen Whatever His Last Name is, and Keith the Major Douchebag."

"I don't know any of those people," the brunette girl replied, sipping more of her drink. _Yes_, Josh thought, _drink, drink drink…_ "Except I think Derrick told Kristen not to interact with James at all when she tutored him. Why? Is he a bad guy?"

"Yes," Kemp replied. "We don't like him. We don't like Owen either."

"Wait… is Owen our vice president?"

Josh nodded. "Yeah. They were probably just talking about how they're pissed at Plovert for wanting to raise money by working with OCD. They don't like having to rely on the girls' school for our school's lack of funds."

"No, they're taking about your—"

"_Don't_," Josh all but hissed. Not here. Not here. Not now. He wasn't ready.

Kemp frowned, opening his mouth again. "No, Josh, this is a big deal. They were talking about—"

"She doesn't know," Josh snapped at him, glancing at Massie out of the corner of his eye. She was not about to find out about his sexuality from a more-drunk-than-sober Kemp Hurley.

"I don't know _what_?" she demanded, her gaze changing to a glare in a split second.

Kemp sighed loudly. "That Josh is—"

"_Massie_," Josh said over him, voice rough. He was not going to let this happen. No fucking way. "Go talk to Derrick."

"I thought you told me _not_ to," she whined.

"Just go." Josh gave her a light push. "He'll make you another drink."

The brunette sighed heavily, like this was the most annoying thing she had ever heard, but Josh could tell by the twinkle in her eye that she was clearly going to enjoy this. Stomping off in the direction of the blonde, he knew whatever he and Kemp had just said was completely erased from her mind.

Only when she was completely out of earshot and solely focused on Derrick did Josh turn to acknowledge Kemp. "What the _fuck_, man?"

"Sorry!" his friend exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "How was I supposed to know you didn't tell her? You tell that girl _everything_."

"Yeah, but I just haven't gotten around to telling her _that_." Josh gritted his teeth together, trying to push his anger—reasonable, though, of course—out of his body. Now was not the time. "It's not exactly something I'm good at explaining…"

Kemp bit his lip. "Do you not think she'll accept you or something? You're, like, best friends, I'm sure she will."

"It's not that," Josh muttered, tugging his hat off like he did whenever he was uncomfortable or fidgety. "It's just… this whole thing is fucking up my entire life. I've got those lacrosse kids after me because they think this is a _joke_, and my dad just left us because he can't handle me, and—"

"Wait. Your dad's gone?"

Josh nodded curtly, avoiding eye contact. All his fault. All his fault. Kayla won't grow up with a father and it's all his fault. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"I mean, he wasn't that pleasant, so I guess that's good, right?"

"No," Josh replied, "it's not good at all. I messed with our entire family dynamic because I let myself get screwed up by some stupid kids who thought it would be funny to see what happened when they—they _did this _to me. I'm sure they weren't expecting to push me into becoming who I really was or some shit like that, and they _still_ think this is a big joke. _I'm_ ruining everything I touch and they're laughing about it." He paused, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Sure, my mom and dad didn't have a typical loving relationship, but it was normal for Westchester and he made all the money to support us, and he took care of me and Kayla, and now that he's gone, what's going to happen to us? My mom's going to have to get a job and who is going to take her when there are other women and men out there instead of her? And who's going to take Kayla to the Father-Daughter dance at OCD in the sixth grade when the time comes? I ruined their lives and they're not even saying anything about it, but I _know_ I did and I just can't live with that on my shoulders, and I just want to—"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_," Kemp interrupted, his eyes losing their drunken glint. "Listen to me, man: You're not ruining any of their lives. Your dad _left_. They stayed. If they didn't love you and want to help you on this confusing journey, they would've done the same. You're not getting kicked out of the house. They're going to be there, Josh, no matter what. You're going to be okay."

That was when Josh swallowed roughly, unable to keep himself as composed as he had been. He was glad Massie was distracted by Derrick now; how could he have explained to her why he was slowly having a mental breakdown in the middle of the Fishers' kitchen?

"What if I'm not?"

Kemp placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezing in the most reassuring way possible. He could feel his friend's candidness run through his veins at his touch. "I'm going to make sure you are, Josh. I promise."

* * *

><p>Alicia hated having that feeling in the pit of her stomach, the one that pressed and pushed against everything she had, prickling the back of her eyes, telling her she was missing something, anything, <em>everything<em>. She thought staying home would be a good idea—and it was, really, she knew, but at the same time, she didn't.

She had figured curling up in her bed and watching one of the various movies she had already seen thirty times this week would make her feel better, lull her to sleep. Instead, all she did was scroll through Twitter (and favorite her friends' stupid drunk tweets), Instagram (and like their cute pregame pictures), and Facebook (and wonder why people were so stupid as to broadcast _Party at Harris'!_).

It didn't work. She legitimately wanted to pull something from her closet and just _go_. Not be drunk, not try to get with anyone: Just be there to experience these things with the people she loved the most.

She knew she couldn't. She was vulnerable. She wasn't ready to throw herself out there, to socialize. Boys still thought she was easy, still called her names behind her back. Girls were probably doing the same. Her parents thought she was sick. Her doctor thought she was pregnant. How could she even _think _about wanting to be at what was probably going to be the biggest party of the season, year, decade? It was stupid and she was starting to feel bad about herself and her stupid decisions—

And then Chris called.

At first, she thought there was a problem. Dylan threw up again… Massie got into a predicament… Derrick was bloody and bruised on a street corner… she didn't really know, but these various situations filled her mind faster than she could keep up, and in the end, all of her friends were all dead in a large pile and this wasn't even Chris calling her—

She calmed down after that, though, because that was silly. Harris was there. Patrick was there. Sammi was probably there, too, as well as Dylan's older sisters. It wasn't like they lived in the ghetto. They were fine.

But still, why would Chris call her if they weren't?

And they weren't.

And he just wanted to talk to her. A boy who was not Derrick just wanted to talk to her.

It made her feel all warm and tingly inside.

"You sound _so_ drunk, Chris." She giggled, curling up into her blanket, once again ignoring the movie playing on her television. "Are you sure you're okay?"

There was a female screech on the other end—he was outside, she remembered him telling her that—and he let out a startled exclamation at whatever just happened. "Uh, I don't even know what's going on with this girl, but she just fell in the pool and…" He trailed off, snorting. "I don't really care. I'm fine, though. Just drunk enough."

"And you really want to talk to me?"

"Of course."

_Of course I want to talk to you, Alicia. Of course._

Ugh—the fact that she was more important that drunken mingling with friends. She just wanted to… _ugh_.

"I'm boring, though," she murmured. "Home sick. The girl everyone thinks begs for sex. A mess, really, if I have to describe myself."

"I think you're interesting," he replied without a hitch, without hesitation, without a second thought. "And I don't listen to the rumors that go around our school, Alicia. You should know that by now."

She knew she and Chris didn't talk that much… not as much as she and Derrick, who she would be willing to tell everything to, but… Chris was sweet. He wasn't like anyone else she had ever met. He would understand. She knew he would and, well, she trusted him. She didn't know why. She didn't know how. She just did.

"But am I really?" She sighed a little, like she was questioning her whole existence, and maybe she was. "How can anyone prove I didn't ask for it? _Didn't I_? Didn't I just let it happen? Any respectable girl would've… she wouldn't have… Maybe they're right."

"They're not. Don't think that."

"But how can I even prove that I'm—"

"Any respectable _guy_ wouldn't have led you on the way Danny did," Chris all but snapped. "This isn't your fault. You were drunk. He knew you were interested—he shouldn't have… it's not your fault."

Alicia rubbed her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. "I—I'm sorry, Chris. I shouldn't have brought this up. You're at a party and I know you don't want to talk about this. No one wants to talk about this…"

"No, no, no," Chris argued softly. "I'll talk about it all you want, drunk or sober. If you want to vent or yell or whatever it is, I'll be here. In person, on the other line: you name it. I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay?"

"Chris, I…" She didn't know what to say. She was finding it hard to breathe, to do anything properly. "I really… you don't have to—"

"I don't know why you find it so hard to believe that people want to be there for you," he said, and she could hear him moving around now, maybe walking around Cam's backyard. "I want you to trust me."

"I do," she spit out, talking around a huge lump in her throat. Tears were building up inside of her; any second now, she would burst. "It's just… hard for me to accept that. I've built up so many walls over the years that I can't find any cracks in them to let them fall. It's like they're there permanently."

"Let me help you knock them down, Alicia. It won't be that hard with someone else there to…"

But Alicia didn't hear him finish his sentence. A beep sounded in her ear, one that urged her to take the phone away and look at the screen.

Her heart started to beat wildly in her chest and the tears that she had thought she pushed away were starting to rise back up. Her mouth tasted of pennies. Her hands shook ever so slightly.

Swallowing roughly, she brought the phone back to her ear. "Chris? I'm going to have to call you back. Go have fun at the party, okay?"

She listened to him babble some sort of argument back at her—why did she have to go? He didn't mind talking to her about anything, _Alicia_—but she pressed the button to switch the calls, taking a deep breath as she did so.

This was the call she was waiting for.

This was it. One simple word could change her life forever.

"Hello," she spoke, hoping she sounded a lot more confident than she felt. "Yes, this is Alicia Rivera…" Pause. Swallow. "Yeah, I've been waiting for results."

* * *

><p>"Thank <em>god<em>, a friendly face."

The deep voice of Cam startled Dylan so much she felt her heart jump into her throat and her drink spilled on her tights. She had thought she would be alone, sat at the window seat, overlooking both the front yard and the raging party inside.

"Hey, Cam."

"You seem… distracted?"

She felt him place himself beside her. "Why do you think that?"

"Wellllll," he replied, leaning back on his elbows, "you're not looking at me and you're staring out into the living room like it's the most riveting thing that's ever happened to you."

Dylan felt the edges of lips curl. "It is," she retorted. "Didn't you know? I love messy drunks trying to hook up with each other. It thrills me."

Cam snorted. "Didn't peg you as the type, Marvil."

"Ah." Her green eyes spotted the front door open and close, a flash of blond. She brought her cup to her lips, took a deep sip. "Some of us are much deeper than we look, Cameron."

"Right. Dylan Marvil's favorite pastime is people watching."

"People watching _at parties_," she corrected. "Getcha facts straight."

"My bad."

They settled into a comfortable silence—or somewhat, really, since Dylan was starting to become super-aware of Cam's presence. She continued to drink at what she thought was an even pace, not sure what the youngest Fisher thought of girls and alcohol. He stared off into the distance, but every so often he would glance over at her, watching out of the corner of her eye as one of the most popular girls acted as the wallflower she really wasn't.

"No, but seriously," he said, fingers touching her knee softly. _What? Why is he doing that? Cam._ "Why are you here?"

She scoffed. "Biggest part of the year… free alcohol… there was no way I was going to miss that."

"You're so funny, Dylan. _So funny_, really." Cam grinned at her, dimpling adorably. "Why are you sitting _here_ when you could be with your friends?"

"Don't know where they are," she replied, shrugging her shoulders lightly. She could have tried a little harder to find them—texted, called—maybe not have just given the room a once-over before plopping over at a random spot. They were probably too busy with boys to deal with her anyway… everyone loved them…

She could feel Cam's pointed stare. "No. Really. I have no idea."

It wasn't a lie.

"Last I saw, the three of you were together."

"We get separated very quickly at parties."

"Kristen's over there." Cam pointed into the other room—it looked like a den or something of that sort—and she turned her head, spotting the dirty blond… taking body shots off some shirtless guy? Dylan stifled a cackle, hoping she would remember this once she woke up tomorrow morning. Kristen would be _so_ embarrassed… but at least the kid had hot abs.

Not like Dylan would ever have the lady-balls to do anything like that.

You know, if a boy were interested in having her tongue all over him… which was highly unlikely.

"Well."

"I'm sure if you looked a little harder, you would've found her."

"True." But Dylan didn't make to get up. Why bother her friend when she was having such a good time?

Cam squinted his eyes, looking more and more like a lost puppy as time went on. "Dylan… what's up?"

"Nothing. I just don't want to bother them while they're having fun. That's all."

"But you'd be having fun, too."

"I wouldn't," she told him with an air of finality, hoping he'd drop the subject. And whenever she wished for something to happen, the opposite occurred normally.

"And why is that?" he questioned, ruffling his dark hair with his hand. Maybe that was a nervous tick or something; he was always touching one thing or another, moving his fingers. It was odd.

The redhead shrugged again. "I would just make them pay attention to me instead of whatever it was they were doing. Most people like to talk or hang out with Kristen and Massie over me, I've noticed. And I'm really not drunk enough to deal with the rejection, so…"

"That's not true," Cam retorted. "I'm paying attention to you."

She huffed. "Because I was the first person you saw."

"I was looking specifically for you, actually."

* * *

><p>"Hi."<p>

Derrick blinked, brought his cup to his lips, and remained silent.

"You talk a lot," Massie noted, clasping her fingers together and playing with her thumbs. When he didn't answer, she looked over her shoulder, noticed Josh and Kemp still speaking and added, "I'm being sarcastic, just to let you know. I'm not… like, making fun of you for previous things or anything. Just. I'm trying to break this tension."

Still no response from Derrick. Just a blank stare and a turned back. Cool. She was very good at this whole conversation business.

"I didn't mean to offend you and I'm sorry I did, but, like, Josh pushed me out of that conversation and now I'm here so, like, I don't want to be alone, you know—"

"It's fine. Here."

Massie stopped mid-apology, her mouth about to stay open like a fish out of water. "Um… what?"

The blond soccer player grinned, the redness of the apples of his cheeks more pronounced. "Yeah." His eyes twinkled. "You didn't do anything wrong. I just thought you could use a drink."

"Oh." She took the cup from him, holding the warm alcohol in her hands. "That was nice of you."

"I'm a nice guy," he shrugged. "So, what's up?"

Massie sighed, swirling her drink—what was it? Did he know she favored vodka over rum, unlike her friends? Or that she actually could stomach tequila even though she told people she couldn't? "Nothing."

He raised his eyebrows, leaning up against the counter. "That sure doesn't sound like nothing to me."

She sniffed, taking a tentative sip from her cup. For all she knew, Derrick was shit at mixing drinks and she was gonna vom-dot-com all over the place—but the harshness of the liquor, whatever it was, she couldn't tell, was masked by the sweet and bubbly flavor of the soda, and all she wanted to do was drink and drink and drink. It was _good_. Really good.

"I'm not bad at pleasing people, you know," Derrick murmured. The deep tenor startled her, her gaze moving from the floor to his face. There was some sort of unreadable glint in his eye, one that made her, for some reason, very warm, but very uncomfortable.

"Are you now?" she replied, voice sounding so unlike her when it hit her ears. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her body, but she was pretty sure she didn't sound so sultry when she spoke normally.

He took a step forward, abandoning his comfortable position. "I've got a pretty good track record."

"Talking yourself up, are we?" Massie said softly, bringing her finger to her mouth to suck the alcohol off of it.

Derrick watched her movements slowly, intensely, and she smirked ever so slightly at him, pleased with the way the brown of his eyes now looked pitch black.

"Just stating the truth, actually," was his response.

Their bodies were just an inch away from touching. Massie could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell every inch of him, the somehow delicious mix of sweet cologne and alcoholic drinks. He was _so close_ and even though he had to be about three inches taller than her even in these heels, his forehead was almost touching hers. All she had to do was lift her head just a tad to meet his lips with her own.

He was even closer now. So, so, so close. Was he moving or was she? What was going on? Were they really going to—

"Ah! Derrick, _there_ you are!"

_You have got to be kidding me_.

Derrick pulled away from her, an even more unreadable expression on his face and turned to face the ever-annoying, moment-ruining-specialist herself, Skye Hamilton. Like, honestly. Who gave her the authority to flounce around the way she did?

"Uh, hey, Skye." His body remained close to Massie's, but that seemed to be it, until he ran his hand through his hair, letting it drop to his side to carefully squeeze her wrist.

Out of all of her experience in the world of body language and nervous body pinches, she knew that had to mean _please don't leave_. If not, she was really ruining his life.

…oh, well.

"Hello, Skye," the brunette greeted as well, forcing her lips to form a smile.

Skye barely nodded at her, focusing her attention on the boy beside her. "I was looking for you everywhere!"

"Were you really?" Derrick coughed. "Was I hard to find?"

The blond shrugged her shoulders daintily, biting her lip. "It took me a little bit of time, but… I found you. It would've been easier if you answered your phone, but."

"I probably didn't feel it," Derrick replied. "Vibrate, you know."

She nodded. "Understandable. It's also pretty loud in here."

"I hadn't noticed."

Massie did not like the way Skye was eyeing Derrick, like he was some piece of meat she wanted to get her fangs into. Everything about the girl gave her the chills; she had to be planning something every day. She _thrived_ off drama. It was so annoying. If only the world would get rid of her already.

"Well, since I found you, you owe me a dance."

"What?" Massie vocalized, hoping her face didn't express the shock—and fear—her body was beginning to bubble with. _A dance_?

Skye glanced over at her for a moment, the shadow of a smirk ghosting upon her face. She knew. Oh my god, she_ knew_. "You proooooomised, Derrick. Remember?"

"Um… not really," he admitted, "but I don't remember much right now, to be honest. Just, really, uh, getting here…"

"Getting acquainted with Harris' extensive bar, hm?"

Derrick swallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, why don't you? Don't you want a drink? I can make you one."

"I'm okay for now." Skye smiled at him. "I can just get one later. I wanna have fun."

"He can't right now," Massie blurted, hoping the fast beating of her heart could not be heard over the pounding music. "He's… uh, busy."

The junior alpha crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow. "I'm _sure_ he has other obligations."

"He does." Massie nodded quickly. What was she doing? Why was she so… possessive? She didn't want Derrick to leave, didn't want him in the Skye's disgusting, sweaty hands, didn't want him with anyone but _her_.

"What is it then? This isn't his party; he doesn't have to host. I'm sure he could just—"

Massie grabbed Derrick's face, pulled him close to her, and pressed her lips, which unfortunately tasted like vodka instead of her usual flavored gloss, to his, the plastic cup in his hand falling to the floor with a clink, the alcohol obviously spreading all over the tiled floor.

That would shut Skye up.


	35. thirty four

uh... i honestly don't know what happened.

don't hate me.

* * *

><p>"And you were…?" Skye asked, her calm tone of voice contrasting with the fire blazing in her eyes. She plucked the red cup out of Claire's hand, swigging the concoction back.<p>

The way she was staring at her- so intently, so… _darkly_- made Claire's fingers tremble, but she refused to show fear. That's what made her the "Goody Two Shoes" of the Pretty Committee, because she was so easy to manipulate with fear. Not this time. "Getting you your drink, just like you asked. I didn't make it, though," she explained, licking her lips, "some kid at the bar did. Said he knew what you liked."

Skye pressed her lips together, discarding the cup on the nearest surface. "First of all, never let someone _else_ make my drink. Do you know how many people- boys, really- want to get into bed with me? That could have been drugged, Claire, roofied!"

"I… I'm pretty sure it wasn't," the younger girl spoke. "The guy looked familiar enough so I thought-"

"Next time, _don't_." Skye flipped her hair over her shoulder, sighing. "Now I have to get my own drink… and that's not even the worst part."

"That isn't even that bad of a-"

"Stop talking, will you? I'm mad at you."

"What'd I do?" snapped Claire, crossing her arms over her chest. "I did what you wanted! I got you your stupid drink and-"

Skye raised an eyebrow rather menacingly, freezing Claire in her tracks. "You're supposed to know when I need backup, Lyons."

_Backup_?

"How am I supposed to _know_ that?" Claire demanded. "Do I have a Skye-radar or something? Because I'm pretty sure I can't read your mind."

"Now is not the time to be sassy," Skye hissed out ever so slowly, each word enunciated to the fullest. "We've only been here- what?- ten, fifteen minutes and you already fucked up."

Claire blinked. "Fucked up? How did I fuck up?"

"I tell you all the things your little friends are saying about you, I open up my exclusive group to you, and I don't get anything in return. This isn't what I signed up for, Claire. I could kick you out on your ass right now, you know. _Friends_ are supposed to help each other."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"_Derrick_!" Skye screeched, throwing her hands up in the air. "Derrick Harrington!"

"I told you I was going to help you get him-"

"Well, you didn't."

"We haven't even… wait, what do you mean 'didn't'?"

Skye sighed, running a hand through her hair and grabbing her supposedly drugged drink, taking yet another long sip. "While you were busy getting me this shit"- she slammed the cup back on the mantel- "I found Derrick. And you weren't there to grab Massie's attention- Lord only knows why she was anywhere near him- so she kisses him to get him away from me, the little skank."

Claire coughed. "Massie kissed him? She kissed _Derrick_? Isn't she with Cam?"

"I don't care about her love life, Claire. All I care about is-"

"I'm pretty sure she's with Cam," the sophomore ignored her, nibbling on her bottom lip in a sort of anxiety-induced stupor. "I remember because Deena rubbed it in my face when he 'upgraded' or whatever she said he did… why would she kiss Derrick if she's with Cam?"

"Claire, the world doesn't revolve around that kid. If anything, the only Fisher anyone cares about is Harris. He's ten times hotter." Skye shook her head, blue eyes surveying the scene around her. It was your typical party- messy, reeking of alcohol and the slightest stench of vomit- and, just like the last one she went to, something absolutely horrible happened to her. But that didn't mean she'd let it happen for long. "Besides, why are you so worried about him? He pushed you to the side as soon as he could if I can recall correctly."

"It was my fault, really. I made a mistake and I deserved it," Claire murmured, glancing down at the ground. Even after all those months, she was still beating herself up over kissing Josh Hotz. It didn't even matter what she said about the situation, in the moment she wanted to do it. And she did. "I just wish he could understand that I really regret it and I'm sorry."

Skye snorted. "Do you still have a wittle soft spot for baby Fish? That's _ahhhhh_-dorable."

Claire glanced up at her, eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm always going to have a soft spot for him."

"Feelings for boys are pathetic, Claire. When will you learn?"

"I'm trying to. I don't want to feel all these things for him, but it's hard not to, you know? He was the first boy I ever actually legitimately liked. He was the first boy who liked me back… and not just to get to one of my friends. How am I supposed to just let that go?"

"Easy. Forget about him."

"Haven't you ever liked a boy, Skye?"

The taller of the two stopped for a moment to think, tapping her finger against her lip. "Yeah… in, like, the fifth grade."

"And don't you like Derrick?"

Skye coughed out a cackle, looking at Claire in amusement. "God, no. I like his body. He's pretty cut for a fifteen year old."

"So the only reason you want me to sabotage everything Derrick has going for him is because you like the way he looks without a shirt on?"

"Pretty much. Speaking of that, we need to get Massie away from him so he can see that I'm much better than-"

"-I need to go find Cam," Claire interrupted, the mention of her ex-best friend's name ringing a bell deep in her stomach. Something tugged at her heartstrings, something that told her she needed to warn him about the girl he was in pretty deep with. He might not like her anymore, but it was the least she could do. Cam deserved more than cheating girlfriends, Claire knew that, and maybe, just maybe, if she were the only to tell him, he'd understand just how apologetic she was; she wasn't a bad person, not really.

Skye gritted her teeth. "No, you don't. You need to stay with me and help me find Derrick so we can-"

But Claire wasn't listening anymore. She lifted her hand in a wave, turned on her heel, and pushed through the throngs of grinding teens.

The junior alpha- or total alpha, really, seeing as Massie was no longer in the picture- sighed angrily, finishing off the drink she hadn't wanted in the first place. "Now we're back to square one," she muttered to herself, "Claire obsessed with everything Cam does."

Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned anything about Massie. Maybe she should've just gotten pissed over the fact that some random boy thought he knew her well enough to make her drink for her. FYI, she hated vodka and Coke with a passion- she'd much rather take seven tequila shots without a chaser than drink that.

Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she pressed on a contact, raising the volume. "Heidi, I'm gonna need your help. Yeah, Claire fell through- she's obsessing over Cam _again_ and… just fucking help me get Derrick Harrington, okay? I know just how I'll pay you back."

* * *

><p>If there was one thing Kristen didn't like, it was the feeling of someone she didn't even know shoving their tongue down her throat. That didn't stop her from reciprocating, but still. She had no idea this kid's <em>name <em>and here she was, allowing him to press her up against a wall in a darkened corner of the living room, his hands roaming her body like they were in private.

She knew she shouldn't have participated in those body shots.

Drunkenly mulling over how she got in this situation in the first place, she bit down gently on the boy's lower lip, feeling his moan in her mouth at the contact. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her pelvis closer to his- and that's when Kristen got uncomfortable. No one touched her like that unless she wanted them to and she most certainly did not want that to happen. Even when she was drunk, she had standards.

The kiss was broken in a second, hands pressed against his chest to push him away from her. The boy- even now she couldn't recognize him- stumbled back a few steps, giving Kristen just enough room to slink away, throwing a "Bathroom!" over her shoulder. Not that it mattered if he knew where she was headed, it wasn't like she was going to find him afterwards.

She hoped that on her way to the restroom she'd find one of her friends, preferably Dylan or Massie, but Josh or Plovert or any of those boys would do too. Being alone wasn't safe, not after what Nameless Tongue Boy did to her.

There was no one she particularly knew as she headed towards the hallway and she wasn't about to interrupt Sammi and Harris' reunion- if that's what she could call Sammi straddling him- just to keep herself away from a major freak. If anything, he would probably be with some other unsuspecting girl who'd be up for his body touches. Why wait for Kristen to return?

Knocking on the door and sending a little prayer up to god above, Kristen shouldered her way into the bathroom, pleased to see it was dark and empty. It wasn't like she actually needed to use the facilities, she just needed to sit herself down and _think_. Take a moment to herself. Figure out what the hell she was doing.

"Eight shots and licking some kid's abs…" she muttered, rubbing a hand across her face. In the mirror, she saw who she really was- tangled hair, smudged makeup, pink cheeks, sparkling eyes. In the simplest definition, a complete mess. None of this was cute. She didn't even want to leave the bathroom without attempting to fix herself, but what was the point? "What are you _doing_, Gregory?"

_I don't know_, her mind replied. _I really don't know_.

She ran her hands under the faucet, rubbing her fingers underneath her eyes to remove any running mascara, and attempted to tame her hair into a braid. It still felt stiff and gross, but there wasn't much she could do here. She wasn't about to shower at a party. Not like she could without falling over, really. She was too drunk for her own good; everything was doubling, everything was spinning, everything was weird.

This was totally why she didn't drink as much as the others did… except she really liked this feeling. She wasn't in control of her own body, the alcohol pulsing throughout her was making all the decisions for her. She didn't have to think about grades or soccer or school. She was free to make a complete and total fool out of herself and know it wouldn't affect her grade point average or her ability to get into a good college when the time came. She didn't have to think about how much everyone hated her and the Pretty Committee, how badly Skye Hamilton wanted to bring them down, how much life sucked since she got kicked out of OCD. The alcohol wanted her to have fun. It wanted her to be happy for once in her life. It wanted to remind her that not everything sucked and that's why she drank it. Every time it slid down her throat, the harshness filled her up with a warmth that almost told her, "Everything is going to be alright." But for some reason it didn't want her to forget about Todd.

Todd Lyons, Claire's stupid brother, with the stupid brownish-reddish hair and the freckles adorning the bridge of his nose and pretty eyes and stupid sense of humor-

She hadn't talked to him in weeks, hadn't seen him, ignored him, but the kiss still replayed in her mind sometimes when she wasn't focused on something else. Or when she _was_ focused on something else. The way his lips were so soft and gentle against hers… the way he held her face as if she were the most fragile thing in the universe…

Her arms filled with goosebumps not even her fingers could remove and she bit her bottom lip rather roughly, remembering how that random boy had taken her mouth for hostage and feeling rather guilty about it, like she shouldn't have let him touch her in any way…

"No," she said sternly to her reflection. "Don't do this to yourself. You don't- not _now_."

It was always bad to think about things that actually mattered- people that mattered- when you were inebriated because when it came down to it, your mind, frazzled and disoriented, only wants that one thing until you're back to normal.

And in that moment, Kristen was searching for her phone, in her bra, in her boots, in her pockets, in her bag, even though her more rational side was screaming for her to _let it go, just let it go_- or was it? When the device was in her hand and she was dialing the number she knew by heart- for no reason except that she tutored him for months- her heart was racing and her breathing was labored.

She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't be trying to contact him. Not after what she did. Not after she ran.

It didn't even matter in the end; he didn't pick up. Why would he? She basically ruined his life, crushed him like he was an ant under the heel of her shoe, and left him there alone.

(Or it was later than she anticipated.)

Although he didn't answer, she spoke anyway, not even sure if she was being recorded or not.

"I'm sorry," she repeated over and over again, sobs ripping and clawing at her throat. "I'm _so _sorry."

* * *

><p>"<em>Yes, I am waiting for results…"<em>

Alicia curled into a ball, burying her face into her knees, trying to control the tears that were taking over her whole body. She shook and trembled, squeezing into herself tighter and tighter each time she thought she was about to combust. Her fingernails were beginning to leave bright red imprints on her skin, but even the pain they brought with them wasn't enough to get her to unwind herself from what felt like the safest position she could be in.

How could this _happen_ to her? Wasn't she, just a few months ago, one of the most carefree girls in the world, worrying about her popularity, hair, and what the lunch ladies put in her salad? How did it get to this?

"_They came in just a few hours ago and maybe you would like to schedule an appointment with your physician to look them over with her?" _

She sniffed, the silence of her bedroom, of her house, making her feel twenty times worse about everything. She was fifteen. _Fifteen_. Three years of being a teenager and she was already making the stupidest mistakes and paying the consequences for them.

With every breath she took, her body shivered with pain and misery and discontent and pity and every other negative emotion someone could feel about themselves. Alicia hated herself. She hated herself for keeping this a secret from Massie, from her best friends, from anyone who could do something to make her feel better. She hated Danny Robbins for making her believe he actually fucking liked her when all he wanted was to get in her pants. Boys were mean and rude and degrading and she hated them and she wanted Derrick to come over right now and hold her and tell her she was pretty and perfect and nothing was wrong and she'd be okay, really, really, really-

"_If you could please just tell me now… I'll make an appointment, I will, I just want to know." _

Why didn't she tell Massie? Why was she so worried about what she would think? This was her best friend she was talking about. They've made it through new girls from Florida, crushing on the same boys, getting expelled, getting ridiculed for everything they did, and they were still together. Stronger than glue.

Massie would know what to do. She'd know exactly what to say. She'd probably find a way to punch Danny in the face without actually having to lift a finger herself. She wouldn't think any differently of Alicia because everyone makes mistakes, they really do, and they've all had their fair share of nasty falls.

"_Your tests came back positive, honey."_

Maybe if she hadn't spent so much time wallowing in her own misery, she wouldn't feel so alone. There would be people there for her; she wouldn't be so worried that everyone would leave her…

Her breathing picked up, her throat dried instantly, and she was in a ball, gasping for oxygen, trying to regain her ability to function. Positive. Positive. Positive. They were _positive_. She was fifteen and they were positive.

_Positive_.

Just one word could make her dams break and the water of her tears flood down her face. Her chest heaved uncomfortably against her folded up legs. She clawed at her sheets, trying to find something sturdy to hold on to as her entire world fell apart around her.

Here she was, hardly a teenager, and she was stuck with something living and breathing inside of her, something that needed her to live, and she could hardly take care of herself. Other kids her age were worrying about breakouts and school dances, backstabbing friends and crushes on the cutest boys and girls in their schools. And she wasn't… she was with- with-

"_You're about three months pregnant, Miss Rivera. I suggest scheduling your next appointment relatively soon so we can figure out your best options." _

All she wanted was someone there, someone to care about her while she let herself go. But how could she ask for someone to worry about her own well-being when she didn't even want to think about it herself? Who would be willing to watch out for her, her stupid baby, and themselves? Who was that selfless? In Westchester, no one.

She bit her teeth into her knee, pressing her nose against her pajama pants.

No. No. No. No. No. _No_.

This wasn't supposed to happen to her. She was Alicia Rivera, one half of the Twenty, and the school's biggest gossip. She spread rumors like this about people, giggled at their terrified reactions and the way the rest of the student body treated them- this wasn't supposed to be her reality.

She squeezed her legs tighter to her body, the pressure on her stomach escalating so it almost felt as if her thighs were a part of the flesh there.

When it got to the point of hurting her, she let out a small gasp, dropping herself back into a lying position, her hands holding her still flat tummy so gently. There was something developing in there, something that was going to make her get bigger. It was going to make her eat weird things, hurt her back, and make her wear sensible shoes. It was going to rely on her. It was going to need her.

It was Danny Robbins' and she wanted to kill it.

**drafts**  
><strong>to<strong>: derrick harrington (and after careful consideration and hesitation), massie block  
><em>I need you <em>

**sent**  
><strong>to<strong>: chris plovert  
><em>if you're still bored at that party, do you think you could come over?<em>

**received  
>from<strong>: chris plovert  
><em>I'll be there in 10<em>

* * *

><p>Derrick leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, lips turning upward into that of a smirk. "You know, Block, if you wanted to kiss me all you had to do was ask."<p>

Massie scoffed, wiping her sweaty palms on her dress (_don't look at me that way_). "Don't make this out to be something it's not. I was just helping."

"Helping?" the soccer player snorted, watching Massie as she fluttered around the room, touching everything and avoiding his gaze entirely. "I don't understand how kissing me was _helping_ me."

"She was going to pounce on you if I didn't do anything-"

"What makes you think I didn't want her to?"

The brunette closed her mouth quickly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. Drunk or not, she could still get embarrassed and this was definitely starting to feel like it could be filed under "Top Ten Worst Situations Ever". How could she have not thought about what he wanted? Sure, he had squeezed her wrist, but in boy-talk, that could've meant _get the fuck out_ or_ dude, she so wants it_. She couldn't have known that- she was _girl_. Wrist squeezes were reserved for anxiety and excitement; if you wanted someone to leave, you shot them your best glare and they understood in a second!

She clearly didn't think this through- well, obviously, she didn't, she was drunk- but… she didn't think of the consequences after the fact. What did she think was going to happen when it was all over? She totally should have run away or left the party or something. She was still with Derrick, why was she still with him? This was so-

"I'm _kidding_," his voice broke through her unspoken rambles, "you can stop looking so horrified. I didn't want her near me."

Massie blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, I knew that. That's why I kissed you. Because I knew. I knew you didn't want her near you."

"R_iiii_ght," Derrick teased. "Thanks, though, y'know, for all of that."

"No problem." She cleared her throat, running her hands through his hair. "That's what… uh, friends do."

"Mhm." He nodded. "_Friends_."

Massie had no idea why he was emphasizing that word- because that's what they were- and felt the discomfort creep up the back of her neck. "I… uh… yeah." She coughed, looking from his mouth to the floor. "Well, now that you're safe and all, I'm- I'm gonna go find Kristen or something."

"Yeah, sure." Derrick moved just an inch out of the doorway, giving Massie enough room to escape into the hallway.

She shot him a nervous smile, tucking her hair behind her ear before taking two hesitant steps towards him. Why was she so antsy all of a sudden? She _wanted_ to leave. She didn't want to be anywhere near him on account of her (oddly) raging hormones. It was the alcohol that was making her crazy. She didn't want to stay around Derrick, but she _did_.

What would happen if she left? Would Skye suddenly know he was alone and attack? She couldn't just let that bitch- oops, that was harsh, wasn't it?- steal Derrick. He was _hers_.

Wait.

Hers?

Oh _god_. Massie shook her head, breathing in deeply through her nose. Derrick Harrington was most certainly not hers. He was "with" like three girls… or maybe it was just Olivia- Massie didn't really know. She didn't keep track. She just liked to pretend he was as single as single could be and thought girls had cooties… all girls except herself, of course.

If only Alicia were here. She would know what to do. Or she'd be latched on to Derrick's side as they always were whenever they were around each other. She'd keep him occupied. She'd keep Skye at bay.

"Are you going or are you just going to stare at me?"

At the sound of Derrick's voice, Massie's thoughts jumbled together again, becoming hard to understand. She ran her tongue along her lips, not noticing the way Derrick was watching her every movement, and nodded. "Yeah… I should go. Last time there was a party, Dylan wasn't so good handling her drinks."

"Better go make sure she's okay then. Wouldn't want it to happen twice."

_Is he _trying_ to get rid of me?_

Massie frowned, but moved anyway, her brain and feet no longer connected. If only she could go through with leaving this room. That way, she could find a nice, empty corner of Cam's house to go cry in. Derrick literally wanted nothing to do with her; she should've realized that from the start. Why was she getting so worked up over a _boy_?

Ugh. Stupid.

More to drink sounded like a good idea. And then she would go cry. Besides, no one judged you when you cried whilst drunk- it was just a thing girls did. They left you alone, didn't mention it when you were sober. Probably because they couldn't figure out if it was you or not and they didn't want to embarrass themselves if it wasn't.

She was just stepping into the hallway- _home free!_- when she heard Derrick say her name and grab her wrist, pulling her back to where he was.

"…yeah?" she breathed, looking up at him. His hair was falling into his eyes, which were still the prettiest shade of brown she had ever seen.

"I just thought I should let you know you're a really bad liar."

_Excuse me, what-_

But before she could even think of responding, his mouth was on hers, warm and gentle, with just a hint of urgency. A small gasp escaped her; his big hands pressed against the small of her back, pulling her body against his as he moved backwards into the room she was trying so desperately to leave. The door slammed shut behind her, the two of them alone.

"I'm not a bad liar," she argued against his lips, hardly able to comprehend why that was important.

"Doesn't matter," he shot back, "I don't like liars in the first place."

"Is that so?"

"Mhm," he replied, "and I don't know about you, but I was always punished when I lied." He brushed the strands of hair falling out of her up-do away from her neck, nipping and sucking his way down to her collarbone, creating dark marks upon her one weak spot.

"I…" She swallowed, faltering, feeling herself come completely undone with his every touch. "I… don't think I ever was."

He stopped what he was doing, causing her to whimper at the lack of contact. His eyes and lips both smirked up at her and she felt her entire body tingle at his gaze. "I better teach you a lesson, then," he murmured, fingers finding the zipper on her dress and pulling it down ever so slowly.

It felt like her entire body got dropped into a pit of lava, like she was burning and boiling. Every slight flutter of his fingers against her skin felt like she was being electrocuted. Despite how cold the zip of her dress was, everything felt so hot, hot, hot, _hot_-

"You probably should," she returned, pulling his face up from her neck to her mouth, tangling their tongues together.

(Somewhere along the way, she felt her dress fall down her curves.)

(His shirt soon followed suit.)

* * *

><p>Claire was ready to rip all of her hair out- or, better yet, rip <em>everyone else's<em> hair out. Hers was far too pretty to be on the floor.

Would these people just _move_?

They didn't need to stay in the same damn place the entire night. Standing in the living room wasn't the only option. She heard the junior boys playing beer pong in the dining room and last she saw of Kristen, there were body shots in the den. The living room was _so_ boring. Couldn't they find something better to do with their time? The music was lousy anyway. Whoever said house music could make a party better was seriously disturbed. The only thing it was doing was increasing Claire's suicidal thoughts.

She _needed_ to find Cam. She needed to save the day, have him realize that she was his perfect girl, ignoring the fact that, y'know, she cheated on him with his best friend, then dated said best friend before pushing him in a fountain… But you know, those were just technicalities. They would laugh about this whole thing later when they were together again and happy.

Not that she really wanted to get back together with him. He had been a really weird boyfriend. Too clingy, always giving her sweets that made her face break out, not telling her when they'd be hanging out with his friends so she'd be in sweats…

What she wanted to do really was take his heart and _crush _it. She wanted to ruin everyone that had ever "cared" about her, because god only knows they were lying. They were using her, manipulating her. Skye had told her all about their plans to make her believe they were all friends with her and then push her off the very top of the social totem pole, plummeting to her death.

It would be easy to start with Cam. He was too sensitive for his own good. If only he could have been like Kemp…

But there would be no revenge if these people were going to just_ fucking stand here_.

"MOVE!" she snapped, shoving a couple that were far too wrapped up in each other apart so she could finally get out of this godforsaken room.

Cam had to be around here somewhere… it was, after all, his brother's party. He couldn't be too far away from the hustle and bustle.

She was about to turn into the kitchen when she saw him.

Or saw the back of him, at least- the way his dark hair curled underneath his ears, the broad shoulders beneath his flannel, his tiny butt in his dark-wash jeans.

Relief flooded through her- she wouldn't have to ask for him like some loser. She turned on her heel, throwing her hand against the wall to keep her steady. She would probably never get used to heels taller than two inches. Taking a few delicate steps forward to make sure she wasn't about to die, she cleared her throat, straightened out her clothes, and continued to make her way towards her ex-boyfriend.

She was going to be _such _a-

Wait a second… was _everyone_ a cheating whore?

How could she not have noticed the way he was standing before? How someone else's hands were tangled in his hair and his were stationed on their hips. How could she not have noticed the familiar red hair?

Claire felt something plummet into her stomach and she wanted to believe it was disappointment in her fabulous plan falling through. Deep down, she knew it wasn't that- it was mere disappointment in the fact that Cam wasn't a victim. He wasn't upset without her, using Massie to keep him from exploding without her.

Massie and Cam were cheating on each other.

Everyone she had ever associated with was absolute scum.

But not Claire, of course; she had made a mistake going after Josh the way she had. It was an honest to God accident, but no one would believe her. A pity, really.

Sighing dramatically, she spun on her heel yet again, pleased that she didn't fall over. There was no point in trying to be the hero anymore. They were going to ruin themselves without her help.

Now she had nothing better to do than find Skye and help her with her plan to get Derrick.

Like that would be any fun.

* * *

><p>The moment Cam pulled away, Dylan felt her entire body melt into a puddle of absolute terror. What had she <em>done<em>? Had anyone seen? Cam… Cam was Massie's. Well, Cam _and _Derrick were Massie's. Everyone knew that. Even the girls at OCD knew not to try anything with those two. They could flirt (or in Derrick's case, fool around with him) all they wanted, but they knew that, in the long run, they were Massie's.

And Dylan had just made out with one of them.

Crap.

"I- I don't- Cam, that wasn't- I-" She tripped over her words, sounding more and more like an idiot as she went on, but she had to make it clear that was an absolute mistake. "- why?"

"Why what?" He brushed one of her loose curls behind her ear, his cheeks looking adorably flushed.

She batted his hand away, scrambling back until she hit the wall. "Why did that just happen?"

He took a step forward, making Dylan's heart rate skyrocket. "Because I wanted it to?"

"Yeah, okay, let me believe that for just a _second_." She rolled her eyes, wishing she could focus on something other than Cam's dimples. "That… that's not allowed to happen, Fisher. I'm willing to momentarily forgive your lapse in judgment because there's no way you actually _wanted_ to kiss me, but…"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, shaking it out of his face. "Could you for once actually believe someone wants to hang out with you because they _like_ you, Dylan?"

"Hanging out and kissing are two very different things!" she hissed.

"So I'm not allowed to want to kiss you?"

"_No_!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Well, first of all, you barely paid any attention to me before this moment and you're probably drunk… second, _no one_ wants to kiss me, and third, _you have Massie_."

Cam smirked slightly, something that irked Dylan to no end. Wasn't he supposed to be the reasonable, sensible one, not the one who undressed girls with his eyes? "I've been paying attention to you, Dylan, you just haven't noticed."

She crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips, and trying to calm her racing heart. It didn't seem to be working, though, because every time she caught Cam's gaze, she felt like she was about to throw up. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah." He took another step forward, their noses so close to touching. "I have." His eyes were piercing hers, the difference in color practically unnoticeable in the dark. "I know you don't like the way you look, that you haven't been eating at lunch but rather chewing and spitting everything into your napkin when you think no one is looking. Just to let you know, I am."

Dylan swallowed, her throat sore. "I just don't like the food…"

"You can't dislike everything, Dyl."

_Please don't call me Dyl. Please don't be nice to me. Last time…_

She didn't even want to think about last time, about Landon, about Claire- how they all planned it so she would get her hopes up, think someone actually _liked_ her…

"I can," she replied stubbornly, lifting her chin in defiance. "Briarwood food sucks."

"We have ten of the best chefs in the country in our kitchen," Cam explained. "The food is outstanding."

"Well, I can disagree if I want to. This is a free country."

"If you can disagree, then I can kiss you. Free country and all."

She gritted her teeth. "_No_. You. Can't." She cleared her throat, feeling her entire body heat up. Her hair was starting to get too heavy, pulling her down, down, down. "Boys _don't_ like me. _You_ don't like me. You just think you do because I was the first person you saw. You couldn't find Massie, so you settled for me, and I won't tell her what went down between us if you don't, so-"

"Why does everything have to do with Massie?"

"You're dating her! Or not-dating! Or… whatever the hell you two are doing! You and her: you're a package deal!"

Chuckles escaped from the back of Cam's throat. "Massie and I aren't anything official. She knows that, I know that. We're just… I don't know- convenience. We talked about it at the last party we all went to together. We do shit with each other when we feel like it, we go on these lunch dates when we're bored or we want to get away from the drama wrapped around us. It's nothing serious."

"She never mentioned that…"

"It's not something that needs to be mentioned, Dylan. Everyone thinks we're in a legitimate relationship."

"So you fought with Derrick over something that _wasn't_ real? What does that bring you?"

Cam shrugged. "High school relationships are silly. They don't last."

"You have got to be the most confusing person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting."

"You weren't thinking that five minutes ago."

The redhead sighed, nibbling on her bottom lip, which was slightly swollen. "That means_ nothing_, Cam. I'm not about to ruin my friendship with Massie because you went batshit crazy and decided to kiss me!"

"Will you just forget about her for one second, Dylan? The world does not revolve around her!"

"_Forget_? She's my _best friend_!" Dylan exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "I can't just _forget_ about-"

He pressed his finger to her mouth, silencing her. "And where is she? She doesn't seem to be too worried about you, does she? I haven't seen her since she arrived here."

"That doesn't… it doesn't matter…"

"Can you answer a question for me, Dylan?"

She frowned. "Depends."

"Why don't you think guys like you?"

Dylan let out a rather humorless chuckle. "Have you _seen_ me? I'm the size of a _whale_."

"Uh… no you're not," Cam retorted. "You're literally the perfect size. No one wants anyone _too_ skinny, do you understand that? No boy wants a girl that he feels he can break in half with just one touch."

"Then explain to me why every guy goes after girls like Alicia and Massie and Claire."

"I don't know why anyone would go after Claire, she's far too skinny-"

"_You_ did."

"- I thought she was sweet. Funny. Turns out she's not, but… whatever. Alicia's exotic. She's confident and she has this mysterious air about her that everyone wants to figure out. Massie… she knows what she wants and when she wants it and most boys just want to be the one she wants. It has nothing to do with their bodies. It rarely has anything to do with body types, Dylan. It just turns out that the girls with the best attitudes and personalities are extremely tiny… and no one is saying you're not."

"Kemp and Plovert did."

"And they were wrong. They're idiots, Dylan, don't you understand that?" He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. "It took a while for Kemp to grow up. He has no siblings, his parents are hardly around, and he has no one to learn from. Plov… well, he just follows everything Kemp does because most girls are attracted to Kemp's bad boy- if you could even call it that- persona and his takes-no-shit personality. Plovert knew he was wrong. He apologized to you. He _matured_. An idiot wouldn't be able to run an entire grade _and_ make up for the mistakes that happened last year. I'm not saying they didn't do anything wrong, because they did, and I don't even know the kind of effects it had on you, but they were _wrong_. You're beautiful, Dylan. I just wish you would realize that."

"I…"

"Just leave it. Let me compliment you. There's no point in trying to argue with the truth."

Dylan slumped, feeling even more self-conscious than before. Did everyone think she was some whiny, hormonal teenage girl who hated herself? How did anyone perceive her? Why was Cam even telling her all this?

But instead of voicing all of her curiosities, all she could manage to blurt out was, "I hate you."

And Cam smiled, turning around to go merge himself with the crowd once more. "That's fine with me."

* * *

><p>"Hello?"<p>

"Hey, I'm outside- should I ring the bell or…?"

"No, no, my parents are asleep and I'm really not supposed to have people in my house, so I'll just come get you. I'll be right down."

"Okay."

Chris hung up, kicking his foot on the step of Alicia's house. He couldn't remember the last time he had been there, probably last year. It was a wonder he knew how to get there. He only got lost once; that was a feat, considering how much he had to drink.

He felt a little self-conscious about that. Would Alicia care that he wasn't completely sober? He had tried to get rid of the intoxication on the walk there, chugging two water bottles he had stolen from Cam's fridge and reciting the alphabet backwards… which he surprisingly could do, but it didn't make him any more coherent than he was before.

If he had only known she would ask him to come over, he would've stopped drinking hours ago. Or he wouldn't have started.

Well, she had to know what she was getting into when she texted him to come over. After all, he _had_ called her completely drunk out of his mind…

The door opened quietly in front of him and he lifted his head up so quickly, he thought he was about to vomit right there on her welcome mat and that wouldn't be a very good-

"Have you been crying?" he questioned, ignoring the odd feeling in his stomach. Her face was as pale as a ghost, eyes red and swollen. He was most certainly not here because she wanted his company. Something was wrong… which he should have realized from her text, really.

Alicia sniffed, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand. "No… I just have really bad allergies…"

"Don't lie to me, Leesh."

"I… I'm fine, Chris. Just… come in, please, you're going to freeze."

He set his jaw, keeping himself firmly planted on her front porch. "I'm not coming in until you tell me what's wrong. I've never seen you this upset before, Alicia, not even when you found out Josh liked Claire more than you."

"You're going to get pneumonia if you stand out there for too long," she stated, reaching for his wrist. He tugged it back. "It's ten degrees out."

"I'm not cold," he argued. "Just tell me what's wrong."

"_Please_."

"Alicia."

"Chris, get inside."

"Not until you tell me what's up."

"Get in here right now." She tried to glare at him, but her eyes didn't have their normal angry glint.

He shook his head defiantly. "Tell me."

"Chris-" She faltered, looking from his face to her bare feet, sighing heavily. "Will you just _please_ come in? I don't want to have to beg."

"I want to know what's wrong!" he snapped, ignoring her insistence for him to remain quiet. "Why do you tell Derrick everything and not the other people who care about you?"

Her eyes welled up. "Please, please, _please_ come in. I don't want you getting sick." Her voice wavered on the last word, the dams breaking and the tears sliding down her cheeks wordlessly. "If you get sick, I don't know what I'll do and-"

Chris took one step forward, walking directly into the house, and wrapped his arms around her small frame, feeling her shoulders rack with sobs, his shirt staining with her cries. "Shh…" he murmured into her hair, the door still wide open. "Shh…"

Something was definitely not right here.

"What's wrong, Alicia?" he asked softly, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

She lifted her head, cheeks wet, hair tangled. His fingers unconsciously caught her tears as they continued to make their home on her face. She sniffled, looking up at him with a childlike air. "Not here," she murmured. "They might hear."

He didn't question who "they" could be, understanding the severity of the situation even though he had no idea what she was about to say.

The door was shut quietly behind them, locked again, and she grabbed his hand, leading him up her magnificent staircase to the second floor. Chris had never been upstairs before. He was pretty sure the last time he was here they had all been piled in her living room, or her kitchen, or maybe going in her hot tub? He didn't remember.

But this time, he was obviously there for a reason, and here he was, smelling of vodka and whatever else Cam's house reeked of. Perfect.

"Um, so." Her voice sounded stuffy. "This is, uh, my room." She threw her arms out pathetically. "Please do not make fun of my massive stuffed animal collection."

Chris giggled slightly. "Didn't even notice it."

"Funny," she quipped dryly, falling face-first into her mattress.

Awkwardly, he followed her lead, placing himself down on the edge of her bed. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now that Alicia was completely silent, hiding herself from him. Rub her back? No, that was weird. Start talking? He didn't know what he'd end up saying.

Then she broke the ice: "You didn't have to come, you know."

He was about to reply- how could she think he _didn't _want to see her? It had to be obvious by now that he had this huge-ass crush on her- when she continued to speak.

"I wanted to go, you know. To the party." She let out a loud sigh, turning her head to look up at him from beneath her lashes. "My mom said it wasn't a good idea. Derrick agreed. But… but I really wish I hadn't decided to listen to them. Anything is better than this."

Chris frowned, blinking a few times to gather his surroundings. "What are you talking about?"

"I'd rather be drunk and puking than sitting here, completely sober." Alicia closed her eyes. "I don't want to feel like this anymore, feel so tiny and insignificant…"

"-you're _not_ insignificant-"

"…to feel like I don't have any say in anything I do…"

He shook his head slightly, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me here, Alicia."

"I'm miserable, Chris." She shoved her face back in her comforter and it was then that he got a good look at her bed. It was a complete mess. Her sheets were strewn all over, her pillow had little rips in it like she had tugged at it enough to create holes, and the fabric that enclosed them were stained with streaks of mascara. "I hate myself. I hate every decision I have ever made," she continued on, tone rough and full of what he thought sounded like hurt. "I want to go back to the first day of school and start all over. I want to erase everything that's happen and redo it. I don't want to have to rely on other people. I want to be _strong_ again."

Chris still had no idea what she was going on about. He knew he should've remained sober tonight, like Josh. Josh had the right idea. Next time, he should totally listen to that kid. Why was he drunk when Alicia Rivera was spilling her every feeling and insecurity to him? He couldn't think of anything reassuring to say, the only thought running through his mind revolving around throwing up. He wasn't even good at feelings _sober_.

But he wanted to try. He wanted to honest to god prove to Alicia that he was here for her, that Derrick wasn't the only boy she could trust.

He leaned over slightly, running his fingers through her dark hair. It was a little damp, like she had recently showered. "Who says you aren't strong?"

"Me," she murmured. "I'm not strong enough to handle anything that comes my way. I'm not strong enough to tell my best friend what's wrong with me and she definitely knows something's up. I'm not strong enough to leave my room, to go to school, to go _outside_, because I think everyone will automatically know."

"Alicia…"

"I slept with Danny Robbins, Chris." She paused. "I had sex with Danny Robbins."

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly. "I know. It's not like he was quiet about it."

Her shoulders shook as she exhaled. "That's not even the worst part about it. I could handle just sleeping with him, but these rumors- I'm sure you've heard them, they're spreading around school like fucking wildfire- they're saying I'm easy or a slut or whatever, but I didn't beg for it, Chris, I really didn't. I just want everyone to know that. I didn't… I didn't want it. I was drunk and I thought he liked me for real and I was scared he wouldn't want anything to do with me… and… and- I just let it happen."

Chris continued to play with her hair, upset that he didn't know what to say. He had three younger sisters. Why couldn't he find _one_ thing to say that would ease her mind? Maybe he needed to spend more time with them… but if anyone treated any one of them like the boys had treated Alicia… he didn't even want to think about it.

"No one who matters thinks of you that way, okay? Not Derrick or Kemp or Cam or Josh or Massie or Dylan or Kristen. Not even me. We all know you didn't beg for it because, well, why would you? Danny's just making up rumors to build himself up."

If only she had heard the things he said in the locker room, the words that spilled out of his mouth that made Derrick punch lockers.

"But Chris… It's not even _that_. The rumors are awful, yes, but I'm used to everyone hating me. That's all anyone ever does. I'm not a nice person. I ruin lives for fun, make boys break up with their girlfriends because I'm bored… I deserve to feel this way. I deserve to hate myself just as much as I make everyone else hate themselves. I _deserve _to be pregnant."

_That_ caught Chris' attention and practically wiped away all traces of the twelve shots he had taken earlier in the night. "You're _what_?"

Alicia nodded, trying to bury her head further into her sheets. "I got the call today, maybe three hours ago. I didn't know what to do, so I… I texted you. You were so nice to me on the phone and I just wanted someone nice to sit with me and- and-"

"Alicia, look at me."

She didn't budge.

"Alicia, please."

Nothing.

"Come on, I came in because you thought I'd get pneumonia. The least you can do is look at me when I wanna talk to you."

With a sniffle, Alicia lifted her head, moving her body slightly so that she was in somewhat of seated position.

"Don't say that about yourself, okay? Don't hate yourself for the mistakes you made. Danny Robbins is a dick and I'll make sure he gets beat up the next time his family comes over my house for Sunday dinner. You're worth a hell of a lot more than you're giving yourself credit for, Alicia."

"But everyone thinks I'm a slut," she wailed, her voice a much higher pitch than Chris was used to.

"_I _don't." He brushed her hair out of her eyes, the strands that were getting stuck to her- once again- wet cheeks. "I don't care if everyone else does, but I can promise you that I will never think of you as a slut."

She hiccupped. "That's because you're stupid, Chris."

"I'm not stupid," he returned. "I just know you."

Her face contorted, her eyes filled, and her lips quivered. It was all he could do to pull her against him, her face buried in his chest. She held on to him like he was the only thing in the world she had left, squeezing him with a strength he wasn't aware she possessed. "I don't know what to do," she sobbed, "I don't know what to do."

Unfortunately, he didn't either.

* * *

><p>"What are these from?" Massie asked, tracing her finger along one of the numerous bruises on his upper body- this one, right on his left shoulder.<p>

Derrick grabbed her hand. "Soccer."

"Do you get hit in the shoulder often?"

He shrugged.

"What about this one?" She poked the purple mark on his hip bone, eliciting a hiss from his closed lips.

"Same thing."

"And this one?" His thigh.

"Yep."

"The one on your cheekbone?"

"Hit in the face."

"Do they hurt?"

_More than you know_. "Nope."

"Derrick, if I'm a bad liar, then so are you."

"I'm not lying."

"You're not looking at me either."

"They're all from soccer, Block. Just drop it. It's not that big of a deal."

Of course, Massie did the complete opposite. "You know, Kristen told me your dad's a little crazy."

"He just wants us to win, that's all."

"Why are you so afraid of him?"

"I'm not." Derrick swallowed, avoiding her questioning gaze. Couldn't they just go back to what they were doing before? This wasn't as fun.

She pressed her lips to the mark on his shoulder and he shivered. "Then why do you hate talking about him? And why do you always say _he really wants us to win_ when anyone mentions how he treats you like shit?"

"We just don't see eye to eye a lot of the time." He turned on to his side, looking at her directly. "Do you always get along with your parents?"

Massie pursed her lips. "Well, my mom left to live with our gardener and my dad's too busy with Olivia's mom to speak to me, so I don't think I can actually answer that honestly. I get along very well with Isaac, if that counts."

"My dad just wants the best for me."

"And he gets angry if you don't agree with him?"

"Yeah… uh, no. I didn't say that."

Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck and he snuck a kiss on to her forearm. "You know you can tell me, right? I'm not going to judge you or anything. God knows I don't have the right to make fun of _anyone's_ family dynamic."

Derrick bit his swollen bottom lip, meeting Massie's gaze. Looking into it made him feel like he was free-falling off a cliff, but for some reason, he felt completely safe as he did so. _That_ was what scared him the most- the fact that he could put his trust into just one person, that one person literally meant more to him than anything else in the entire world.

This… this wasn't good.

"My dad… he's a little rough, I guess," Derrick swallowed, melting more and more as Massie looked at him. "When I tell the guys having my dad as the coach isn't all fun and games, I'm not kidding."

A small frown tugged at Massie's pretty mouth, but she said nothing.

"If… if I don't do something right, or the way he wants me to do it, he gets mad really quickly. And… most of the time, he takes his anger out on me." He pulled his gaze away from hers, glancing out the window instead. "It used to be that he'd take me out back and make me save a bunch of goals. If they slammed into me a little too hard, oh well, that was the game. Soccer hurts. We get a lot of injuries throughout the season… I dislocated my shoulder last year because some kid from ADD has a killer kick."

He could feel Massie still looking at him. His heart was pounding in his chest. He didn't want her to know that he was this pathetic excuse of a boy who let his father push him around, but for some reason, he couldn't stop. He never told anyone about this, not even his mom, but he was sure Candace knew. She always seemed to know when he was in trouble.

"But it got more serious as time went on. Once we became a championship team, he got even crazier. Everyone blames it on his ACL or whatever, but really, he just likes to control everything. And the more I did wrong, the worse it got. We lost a game this season, so I got hit in the face until my eye was black and blue and my nose was practically broken." He swallowed the lump in his throat, continuing, hoping his voice didn't shake. "It wasn't until I guess October that I realized he was also taking his anger out on Mom and I… I couldn't take it. We got into this huge ass fight if you could even call it that when I saw him slap her and… no one raises a hand to my mom, okay? Not even my dad. She… she… I…" He coughed. "She said she was only doing it because she didn't want him to hurt me, but… I refuse to let my mom protect me."

His heart was pounding in his ears, heat rising to his cheeks. "So I let him do it. If I can keep my mom from getting hurt, it doesn't matter what happens to me. She means more to me than a lot of people know and I just don't want her to get treated like that. If anyone has to take it, I'd rather it be me."

"You could tell someone about him," Massie whispered. "Get him out of your life so neither of you have to deal with him."

"And take away our star coach? Everyone would hate me."

"They'd understand," she insisted. "Why would you want to jeopardize your well-being for the soccer team? You guys aren't good because he pushes you; you're good because you have _talent_."

"You don't get it, do you?"

"I don't get why you're letting this continue. You don't deserve this. None of this makes any sense-"

"I'm scared he's going to kill her," Derrick cut in harshly, blinking as an unfamiliar feeling pricked at the back of his eyes. "If I report him, he still knows where we live."

Massie looked conflicted. "But-"

"I don't care if he hurts me. I don't care if he even kills me. I can't- and I _won't_- let him near her. And I know if I do anything, even hint at the way he treats me, he'll hurt her. He doesn't care about us anymore. I sometimes wonder if he ever did."

"Derrick…"

He shook his head frantically. "I don't want your pity, Block. This is why I haven't told anyone-"

She leaned forward, her hair tickling his neck, pressing her mouth to his. His eyes fluttered shut, his mind focused on the way her lips felt against his, how they seemed to know exactly what they were doing, how this one simple movement made him feel ten times better.

"I don't pity you, Derrick," she murmured, looking up at him. "I don't understand this whole thing, but I think it's all very sweet- in some weird, twisted way. I still think you should tell somebody. It probably isn't healthy for you to take on all of this because-"

"Nope," he interrupted, kissing her again. "No more talking." She protested slightly, but he was adamant, forceful with his movements; his hand trailed down her bare stomach, her body shivering at his touch, fingers playing with the top of her lacy panties.

They didn't say anything to each other after that. At least, nothing that couldn't be expressed in breathy gasps and whimpers.


	36. thirty five

i suck at this whole updating thing, so you can hate me forever if you want. buuut i survived my first year of college, didn't fail out, and here i am again! i'm not sure when i'll update next because i'm back at my summer job, but i'll try my hardest. sorry i'm an awful person.

anyway, i thought this chapter would've been the game, but no, it's not. and a lot of this chapter is based on real life things that have happened in the past few months, especially claire's bit.

* * *

><p>"—'lo," she answered with a cough, clearing her throat.<p>

"Yeah, hey." The deep, but still oddly childish voice on the other line sent a terrified shiver up her spine. Ignoring the headache pounding at her temples, Kristen shot out of bed. Mouth opening and closing like a fish, she could do nothing but listen to his hesitant words, unable to force even the smallest of sounds past her lips. "I just… was, uh, checking up on you."

She swallowed roughly, throat aching. "…checking up?"

"Yeah." Awkward pause. _Was it always like this? Holy shit._ "You didn't answer any of my texts and you left me a really weird voicemail…"

—_voicemail?_

Kristen felt numb, empty. Her heart skipped a beat and returned to normal, only to slam against her ribcage so violently she felt as if she weren't going to be able to breathe for years after this phone call. "I—I did what?"

Todd let out an uncomfortable giggle, "I'm guessing you don't remember."

She sniffed, wiping the thin layer of sweat from her hairline. "No—not really."

Heat rushed to her cheeks, spreading a light shade of pink across the skin she could feel without looking in a mirror. How could she have called him? Drunk or not, she should've known he was someone to stay far, _far_ away from; she could hardly wrap her head around her feelings when she was in the best state of mind…

What did she say?

Did she talk about how much she liked the way he fought back when she tried to establish some sort of superiority, how she liked that he didn't take her shit because she was tutoring him? Did she mention she loved the way his hair fell in his face, the way his eyes twinkled when he was amused, happy, intrigued? Or maybe it was how she was absolutely terrified when he kissed her those weeks ago, holding her face like she was the most fragile thing in the world, not because he was younger or Claire's brother or anything like that, but because these things didn't happen to her? Boys didn't normally go after _her_ when her friends existed—and they most certainly did not pursue her after she decided she was even just a smidgen attracted to them.

Oh, she so desperately hoped she said none of those things.

How could she be interested in Claire Lyons' brother? _Claire Lyons_! Two years ago, he had been the bane of the Pretty Committee's existence: stealing their stuff, eavesdropping on their conversations, blurting their secrets to the boys they liked. He was an itch they could never scratch, a constant pain in the ass.

Something changed in the past year. They had seen less of him; he was missing in action most of the time… but then he appeared again, and he was so different. Less obnoxious, kept stupid comments to himself; he was thoughtful, reserved—but still had that flair that made him who he was. Of course Kristen had to like him a little more than what was acceptable.

Fuck.

"Oh," Todd responded (_oh? What did that mean?_). "Well. I'm just—what are you sorry about?"

"I didn't… I don't remember saying I'm sorry?"

"It was in the voicemail, Kristen." He paused and Kristen took a deep breath. "In fact, it was the entire voicemail."

"I mean." She licked her lips, cracks stinging from how dry they were. "I don't really know… I… I'm sorry." With a wince, she felt like slamming her head against the wall; she couldn't have said anything else?

Todd was silent for a moment, so silent she would've thought he had gone if she hadn't heard the sound of his breathing: relaxed, with a slight uncomfortable shudder at the end. This was the first time they had talked since the incident… maybe Kristen shouldn't have been so cold about the whole thing.

"Don't be," he spoke, soft, hushed. "Sorry, I mean. Don't be sorry. I don't know what you would be sorry about, but _I'm _sorry because I should have never done that to you. I didn't mean to jeopardize our whole friendship and… I wasn't thinking—"

"Todd—"

"—no, just listen to me. I was stupid. I should have figured you were only being nice because you're friends—or used to be friends, actually—with my sister and you were tutoring me so you _couldn't_ be that mean, not like your friends, I guess, and…" Todd took a deep breath, tapping his fingers on his desk. "It's not like you like me anyways. You're a whole year older than me and even though it seems like it's not that big of a deal, it is. I just don't want us to be weird. I feel like whenever you see me you run off in the opposite direction or find someone else to talk to so we don't have to make eye-contact…"

_That's because I do_, Kristen thought, discomfort settling in her stomach. _I ignore you like you have the plague_.

"…like, I know we're not friends, but we _can_ be friends, right? I promise I won't try anything. On you or any of your friends…"

_Just open your mouth, Kristen_, the impulsive, spontaneous side of her urged. _Tell him something that won't discourage him_.

He couldn't think she wanted nothing to do with him. He couldn't spend his whole life thinking that kiss was the worst thing he could've done. It wasn't. If only she hadn't flipped out over it. If only she could have stayed and talked it over with him. Maybe then she wouldn't be missing his little quirks—how his fingers felt against her skin when he tickled her, trying to get her to loosen up and give him a break…

There would be no reason for her to miss him, no reason for her to realize she was falling headfirst into a huge mistake.

Kristen Gregory couldn't have a crush on Todd Lyons.

She couldn't.

Not when Claire was out to get them, helping Skye take everything away.

Not when the majority of the boys at Briarwood hated their existence, hated not having their own place to hide: a girl-free zone.

Not when the soccer team was supposed to play at championships and she was already so hungover it hurt.

Not when her parents were hounding her on college and good grades and résumés.

And when her lips parted, the quietness about to be broken, she froze. "I—"

"What?"

"I have to go," she blurted. _Stupidstupidstupid_.

Todd swallowed. "Right."

"Sorry," she said lamely, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "I have to get ready for the game tonight."

"I forgot that was today," he murmured (no, he didn't, but he wasn't about to tell her it took him four hours to convince Nathan to go with him just to see her). "Good luck."

"Maybe I'll see you there?" she questioned, praying the hopeful tone in her voice didn't sound as pathetic as it did to her.

"Yeah… maybe."

On that dulcet note, the conversation was over. Kristen sat on her bed, legs dangling right above the floor, her limbs feeling as if they were filled with lead. She was so… so… there was no word to properly describe her idiocy. Only stupid seemed to come to mind and that wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

She let out a loud shriek, not caring once about what time it could be, flinging her phone across the room. It hit the wall opposite the bed, making a sound that should have worried her, but she could only throw herself back down on her mattress and wonder why she sucked so much.

* * *

><p>It was the sun streaming through the windows that forced her eyes open, which didn't make any sense—her curtains were always closed before she left the house. It was to ensure she could sleep late on the weekends and to keep that pesky sixth grade boy across the street from peeking on her when she changed (that happened often).<p>

She must have been completely out of it when she got home… in fact, she was still really out of it. She could hardly remember getting back…

Prying her heavy lids open, Dylan tried to grasp her surroundings. Haziness clouded her vision like a fog, the world around her so close but so far, slipping from her fingertips. Once she was completely focused, she was totally down to get egg sandwiches with the other girls: she was _starving_. Now if she could just find her…

Her tiny hand, rather rough and dry, hit something fleshy—not too soft, not too hard—and she could hardly contain the screech that was threatening to escape the confines of her throat.

She blinked multiple times, the room swirling into view: the unfamiliar bed, the white walls (so unlike hers, dusted with rose), the body sharing the bed with her, the hair, the form, the slight snore of a teenage boy.

"_What_."

She wanted to scream, yell, make any sort of noise to calm her heart and stop her palms from shaking. Her head hardly hurt, her stomach didn't feel as empty as it usually did when she drank, so why was it that she couldn't remember _anything_? Why was she in some _boy's bed_? The events leading up to the end of the night, the end of the party, were fuzzy and not at all present in her mind. What she could recall, though, was—oh, _god_, kissing Cam.

Dylan flung her legs out of the bed, searching the room for her wedges. Her clothes were still on, wrinkled, but intact, and she couldn't be happier or more relieved at the sight. Her shoes were nowhere to be found; it was getting hard to care about them at this point. She would run out of this house without them on if she had to. She couldn't be here.

_Whatever, they weren't even my favorite pair. I'll get another_.

Gripping her phone, which she had found out was underneath her the entire time, she browsed the screen, seeing the ten text messages and two calls she had missed. She was asked where she was for the most part in a variety of forms. Kristen's had been the most coherent, but she was always good at drunk texting. You could hardly tell. Massie had misspelled every single word… and there were only three. Even Alicia had looked for her, saying the other girls had lost her. Derrick, too. When had she seen him at the party? Only in the beginning for about ten minutes…

And then there was the tweet she was mentioned in:

**hoshjotz  
><strong>"you know, it's not a good party if we don't lose _marvilous _so I definitely had a good time" r u ok _massieeblockk_

She silenced her chortle, not even the slightest bit upset that drunk Dylan was a constant joke amongst her friends. At this point, it was funny in every aspect. So what if she (nine times out of ten) ended up puking or could hardly remember the night? Maybe she should be upset about it, embarrassed, but if there was one thing Dylan didn't care about, it was what people thought of her—unless it had to do with her appearance, but that was a completely different story—she was having more fun than they were, obviously; a little puke wasn't an issue. Neither was ending up alone in, like, the basement of someone's house.

But this situation—the whole waking-up-in-a-boy's-bed-and-not-knowing-why… that kind of was.

Her wedges were still nowhere to be seen and when she looked down again, trying to check under the bed, she realized she could see the paleness of her legs. She had worn tights out… hadn't she? Upon closer inspection, she noticed the black material resting on her hips was not in fact her skirt, but a pair of gym shorts.

What.

No, seriously: what the fuck.

She needed to get out of here. Pronto.

But where the hell was her skirt? Her tights? Her _shoes_?

She didn't feel any different than usual. Her lips were a little chapped, throat a little dry, feet sore—but that was the norm for her on weekends. Ever since the Pretty Committee started to dabble in Westchester's finest shitshows, she had become accustomed to feeling uncomfortable until Sunday rolled along.

It wasn't even that she was just uncomfortable, though; she was in boy's clothes, in a boy's room, waking up in a boy's bed. This was making her antsy, itchy. Dirty, too, and she didn't know what happened yet. She felt as if she should scrub her body raw, hot water beating down on her naked skin, just to rid herself of this horrible feeling racing through her bloodstream.

"It's ten fifteen, go back to bed," the lump next to her mumbled, shifting. Their head was hidden under their pillow before she could get a good look.

"…excuse me?"

"Alright, don't, but stop moving so much. I'm tired as fuck."

Cam.

It was definitely Cam.

It should've clicked earlier, given the knick knacks all around the room. Posters of favorite soccer teams, The Strokes, awards… a MVP medal was hanging by his calendar, which was still stuck on October…

Okay, friendly, familiar: but what was she doing here?

Why had her friends just up and left? Didn't they come looking for her?

"Why am I here?" she questioned, hating herself for sounding so stupid, for sounding like she let the alcohol get the best of her… which she obviously did if she couldn't remember anything.

Cam fidgeted again, pulling his sheets farther up so he was literally cocooned in his bed. "Threw up. Made you stay."

Dylan rolled her eyes. "Figures."

"Don't know if you got any in your hair. I tried to get it out of your face, but you have a lot."

She patted at the top of her head, realizing that she had been unable to feel the weight of her voluminous curls like she usually did. She knew once it was down, she'd be overwhelmed with the amount of knots it produced just by touching it. Showering was going to be such a bitch… not like it wasn't to begin with.

"Thanks, I think." She sighed.

"Should be," Cam replied, moving _again_. This time, he just rolled on to his side, the one closest to her, head just peeking out from underneath the mess of his bed. His hair fell into his face although he made no move to fix it. His cheeks were pale, his eyes tired. "Everyone else wanted you to walk home. Which really makes no sense considering my parents aren't home and I have a bathroom here, so I just told them to go home without you."

"And they just did?" Rude.

"Well, Massie tried to put up a fight, but it's hard to take her seriously when she's tripping over her own feet and covered in that punch Harris and Patrick made…" Cam snorted, probably envisioning the girl all over again. "Derrick had to convince her they could eat soup when they got home and that's how she left."

"Right." Dylan licked her lips. "And my clothes are where?"

Cam nodded to his laundry basket. "You insisted on putting them in there when I made you change into something more comfortable… you can keep those, though, no use in putting the skirt back on."

"That's embarrassing," Dylan coughed. "Sorry I had to take up your bed. Must've sucked to share."

"No, no." He yawned, flashing his white teeth and blue-stained tongue at her. "You don't move around much. I was more worried about you throwing up in your sleep, so I stayed up for a while after you finally dozed off."

Dylan could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. She couldn't tell if this was worse than the time Landon Crane (gross) had cut her off, handing her cups and shots of water to sober her up. This might take the cake considering Cam had seen her stomach empty itself—and that _had_ to be absolutely adorable. Not.

"_And_," he continued, smirking slightly. "You get _very _cuddly."

"Oh my _god_." She buried her face in her hands, wishing she could fall into the ground. She had to be as red as a tomato. "I… I'm sorry. This is never happening again. I'm not drinking ever. Until I turn twenty-one, actually, and then I'll stop after that. Oh my god."

Cam giggled, coughed, and chuckled to make up for the first sound. "No worries. I always accommodate."

_She fucking cuddled with Cam Fisher, who was not only hooking up with her best friend, but also made out with her at his brother's party, where her best friend was. Holy shit, just kill her now. Please, please, please._

"I think I'm going to die of humiliation," she muttered.

"Stop making this out to be a big deal, Dyl. Who cares?"

"_I do_!" she squealed, her voice very high-pitched and probably annoying. "I shouldn't _be_ here. I should be home, still in my outfit, praying my mom didn't see me come in or hear me as I threw up. I… this is _bad_."

"If you're saying that because of Massie, I can tell you for a fact that—"

"That's… that's part of it because, like, you and her and her and you and _me_—I don't even fit in to this whole equation—I need to go home."

She went to hop off his bed, but his hand, which was enclosing around her wrist, stopped her. "Calm down and come get bagels with me before you go. We'll talk."

She wished she could've said no.

* * *

><p><strong>kgreg <strong>(10h) **  
><strong>why are me and _thehurley _belting that song from the lizzie mcguire movie

**thehurley **(10h)  
><em>kgreg<em> bc when I see you smilin I go oh oh oh

**dharrington **(9h)  
>MASSIE IS SPRINTING DOWN THE STREET COME BACK MASSIE COME BACK RIGHT NOW<p>

* * *

><p>"—no, I'm not dead in a ditch, Josh—I left Cam's at, like, eleven—"<p>

"—don't go to my house, that's not where I am—"

"—_not in a ditch, Hotz, Jesus Christ_—"

Alicia stirred, listening to Chris' voice, low and soft, but with a certain edge to it, as he argued with Josh on the phone. She could feel his fingers in her hair, absentmindedly running through her tangles, and she debated falling back asleep again, cuddling deeper into her blankets, her pillows, and him. She couldn't; her head felt too heavy to become comfortable again, her neck as weak as a toothpick. A migraine pounded at her temples.

She let out a quiet sigh, closing her eyes briefly. Although sleep was trying to pull her back in, enticing her with dreams she could escape into, her brain was whirling to life, reminding her just how much her life sucked.

You're pregnant, Alicia, it said to her. There's a living thing inside of you, the consequence of your stupid mistake.

"_Yes_, I will be at the game… I haven't missed any since I got kicked off—" Chris stopped short as did his fingers. "I gotta go."

There was a silence for a second, just a brief moment of absolute quiet: "Alicia?"

She didn't want to move, didn't want to look at him, didn't want to face what she knew was coming. Chris knew so much—too much, maybe, if she thought about it—and the look he was going to give her, the look she wanted to hide from, she couldn't handle. Maybe she could pretend she was asleep, pretend she wasn't pregnant… just pretend, pretend, pretend.

"I know you're up, Leesh," he murmured, fingers moving through her hair again. His elbow was holding his entire body weight, the mattress dipping. "Just look at me."

"Aren't you hungover?" she croaked, back stiff.

He snorted. "Didn't drink _that_ much."

"Doesn't matter how much I drink. I always get hungover."

"That's a big difference between you and me—didn't you just start anyway?"

Alicia wrinkled her nose. "No, we've had drinks before this year."

"But have you been _drunk_ before?" he questioned. "Like, honest-to-god, I-think-I'm-going-to-fall-over-and-puke-and-die drunk?"

She blinked, sniffing. "No."

"The summer after we graduated from eighth grade, Cam's parents went away," he told her, tone of voice whimsical, like he was talking of a time so far away, "and Harris threw this party… and you know, we had nothing better to do, so when he told us we could come, we jumped at the chance. But we had no idea this was going to be the party of the decade—people are still talking about it—"

"—are you talking about the one where someone took the fish out of the tank and tried to fry them?"

Chris snorted. "Yeah."

"They talked about that at OCD. Or at least, Skye tried to get the scoop out of Fawn Roberts."

"Fawn Roberts?"

"She was the Skye of the school," Alicia explained, letting out a deep breath, "the only one who was actually invited, so everyone wanted details out of her. She was also dating Chris Abeley, still might be, if that helps."

"_Oh_!" Chris exclaimed. "Her. Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I don't know what happened. Even to this day, I can hardly recollect the night, seeing as it was the first time any of us had ever blacked out. Sure, we had snuck beers at block parties and family gatherings, but… Derrick threw up for four hours straight, I can't even remember if we were friends with Josh or not, Kemp passed out in some bushes, Cam _broke_ the tree house, and I convinced everyone it was a good idea to play vodka pong, so…"

"Well, I can definitely say we have never done that before."

He chuckled, and she couldn't understand why, "You'll get your moment. Don't worry."

"Pass."

"You don't get a choice in the matter, Leesh," he said. "It's just one of those things that happens."

"I don't want it to happen," she mumbled, because who knew what kind of things could happen if she wasn't conscious of what was going on around her? If she could ruin her life just by being more than tipsy, imagine what could happen if she were worse.

Her gaze caught the alarm clock, the red numbers reading 11:38. "Do you want breakfast or something? You must be hungry." She shimmied herself out of her warm sheets, ready to jump out of bed and make a run for the kitchen when he stopped her short, his arm, more toned than she was expecting, wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his body.

"I want you to talk to me, Alicia."

She felt uncomfortable against his body, freezing up when her back brushed against his abs. She wriggled and kicked at his shins, but Chris was not letting go anytime soon. Despite her mewls and her protests, he held strong, even when she was digging her nails into his forearm. Did he not understand that she wanted to be let go? She didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to forget all about her little breakdown last night and that she tore him away from the party of the year because she didn't want to be alone. She wanted to forget that he had made her feel so safe and so comfortable, just like Derrick had, by being there with her… that she begged him to stay the entire night because she couldn't sleep alone, wanted him to stay so badly he had to lie to his mom and say he was sleeping at Josh's…

If she just forgot about it, it would all go away.

Her insecurity.

Her misery.

Him.

The baby.

All gone.

"I don't want to talk about it, Chris," she all but sobbed. She didn't want to cry, but that's the only thing that remained constant in her life: the tears. "And if that's all you want to do, you can leave. You don't need to stay here because you feel bad for me. I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."

"I'm not here because I feel bad for you." His voice was low in her ear, his face so close to hers it caused goosebumps to form on her skin. "I'm here because you asked me to stay. I'm here because I want to be."

Alicia sniffled, giving up her futile attempt to pry his arm off of her, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "No one _wants _to be around me, Chris. No one _likes_ me."

"_Alicia_." The way he said her name stopped her pity party dead in its tracks; he sounded angry, annoyed, but most of all, upset. "Will you look at me?"

She shook her head. There was no way he was about to see her like this again.

"Look at me, Alicia," he snapped. "You can't keep hiding forever."

"You won't let me!" She struggled against him to prove her point, but he only tightened his grip. "I want to be left alone, Chris. I want to curl up in a ball and _die_ and I want to do it _alone_!"

"If you won't do it, I guess I have to…" He scooted over, using the arm that was draped across her to pull her flat on her back. Alicia frowned, trying to get out of the situation, but it was almost as if she were nothing but a doll to him, like she weighed not even ten pounds. In the next second, he was pinning her wrists down, his entire body hovering over her—and she was instantly reminded of that night with Danny Robbins.

"Chris… Chris… let go of me, please—_Chris_." Her throat was tightening up, the words becoming harder and harder to get out. Her heart pounded erratically against her chest; her vision was screwing with her, her mind playing tricks, showing Chris in one moment and when she blinked, showing Danny in the other. "I can't… please, please, please, I don't want—"

"I'm not going to hurt you, Alicia," Chris murmured. Even though his voice was much softer and friendlier than she remembered Danny's to be, all she could see was him and the way his dark blue eyes feasted upon her naked body that night like it was a four course meal he was waiting for. "Alicia, it's just me. Chris. It's me. I would never hurt you."

"Chris—"

"Look at me, Alicia. _Look at me_."

Despite her desire to keep her eyes shut, to try to hide the memories of that awful night, the urgency and desperation in his tone made her look at him.

Blurry. Everything was blurry.

"Listen, Alicia, I don't know why you keep saying people don't like you," he murmured. It was taking so much out of her to just _look_ at him without hyperventilating. "Just because Danny Robbins is an asshole doesn't mean shit—"

"—no one likes me," she coughed. "You don't get it. Everyone keeps _looking_ at me and I know they're judging me, and they _hate_ me, and I can't even do things with my friends without feeling like a failure and—"

"Stop." (And she did.) "Your friends like you. They love you. I can't count on my fingers how many times you guys have defended each other. Derrick and Cam and Josh and Kemp—they like you too. _I_ like you, Alicia, or I wouldn't be here. I would've left when I had gotten the chance if I didn't want to be here. You can wallow in self-pity all you want, but you can't tell me I'm only here because I feel bad for you. I want to help you, Alicia. I want to make sure you're going to be okay because… because all I ever wanted was for you to notice me."

And then he was all she could see.

"W-what?"

His cheeks reddened incredibly, the flush seeming to capture his entire body. "I—yeah."

"No, you're… you're just—"

"I'm not kidding," he mumbled, losing all of his confidence and letting her go, rolling on to his back beside her. "I mean, you weren't supposed to find out this way, but…"

"Were you ever going to tell me?" She peeked at him from the corner of her eye, hoping to see him looking at her. He wasn't.

"I don't know."

"Why?"

Chris sighed heavily. "I just… everyone's always so obsessed with Derrick, and Cam, and Josh, and Kemp… basically anyone who's not me. I'm just the nerd that they think does all the homework and—I don't know—girls would hang out with or date me and Kemp, mostly me, because they could use me to get to Derrick, Cam, or Josh, mostly Derrick—so why would you be any different?"

"I would have thought you knew me better than that," Alicia murmured. Her fingers were itching to intertwine with his, his bigger hand so close to hers.

"The Alicia I knew picked fights with Massie because she couldn't stand being in second place," he told her. "She was spiteful and nasty, wanted nothing but revenge, and could care less who she stepped on to make it to the top—and I liked that. I was so attracted to you it literally made me nauseous. And then," he swallowed; the air felt tense, "and then… I hated you and everything you stood for because it seemed like all you were was a bitch."

Alicia bit down on her lower lip, pressing her teeth down so hard she was afraid she'd break skin. If Chris, the boy who just told her he wanted her to notice him, just told her he thought she was nothing but a selfish bitch, was that what everyone else thought?

Great. Now she was going to cry. _Again_.

"But somehow we ended up becoming friends with all of you again and… I don't know if you were always like this and just hid it, but I liked you again. More than before, if that was possible, but you were always with Derrick, which always happened to me when I liked girls, and I thought… I just gave up, but then… well, it's really obvious Derrick likes Massie."

A mix between a sob and cough escaped her lips.

"So I figured I had a chance and it probably wasn't my best idea to make a move when I was drunk, but it was the only time I didn't feel nervous."

"I make you nervous?"

"You make _everyone_ nervous, Alicia."

"I don't care about everyone. I care about _you_."

He nodded. "Yeah. You make me so nervous."

"Are you nervous right now?"

"A hundred percent."

"So I'm not the only one."

"Wait, what?"

Her hand nudged at his before she slid her fingers between his, squeezing lightly. "You make me nervous, too."

* * *

><p>There was nothing like a bagel smothered in cream cheese to cure a hangover. They had stumbled upon this remedy the first weekend of ninth grade. Josh had originally needed to puke in the bagel place's bathroom and, naturally, as they waited, Kemp ordered food, even when the rest of them could hardly think about eating. Turns out, it was a pretty good idea. They've been doing it ever since.<p>

"Are you going to eat that?" Cam questioned, nodding towards Dylan's untouched plain with butter. He had practically demolished his in five minutes.

She shrugged, looking smaller than usual in his sweatshirt. "Not all that hungry right now," she murmured, fidgeting in her seat. She kept brushing her hair, which she had chosen to braid, over her shoulder, taking glances outside like she was about to get caught for something illegal. He didn't know what was wrong; he was pretty sure nothing awful ever happened here.

"It works," he continued. "The food. You just have to push past the fact that you really don't want to eat anything."

"I don't know if I can stomach it."

"At least drink your water."

"I think I'd just rather sit."

Cam sighed, dropping his balled-up napkin on the tabletop. "Dylan, seriously, what's up?"

"Why can't I just go home? Why are you making me come with you to get breakfast? Don't you have a game to get ready for or something?"

"Not until two," he replied. "I don't know why you're being so weird."

"_Because_," she huffed, ripping a piece of bagel up into tiny pieces, "I'm here with _you_ when I could be anywhere else, mainly with my _friends_."

He raised his eyebrows. "Are you saying we're not friends?"

"I mean—" Dylan paused. "Yeah, actually."

"Right." Cam nodded. "And why aren't we friends?"

"Because we're not." The redhead finally looked up at him, her green eyes piercing into his multi-colored ones. He felt as if he were being scrutinized, like she could see right into him, and it made him uncomfortable. Not that it should've; he wasn't hiding anything.

He just couldn't understand why she didn't think they were friends. As soon as he had found out she wasn't okay, he left the party—which was dwindling down anyway, with Harris calling, "Anyone with a fake, it's time for the bars!"—and shoved Massie out of the way. She meant well, she really did, but she was just as drunk, if not more, as Dylan, and her constant cooing and hair petting was making _him_ nauseous.

And when they had decided to go home, he put his foot down and made her stay. There was no way she was going to get past her mother _and_ her sisters, who he had seen briefly in the living room with Patrick and Harris, without getting in trouble. He held her hair back while she threw up, gave her pants to sleep in, and shared his bed.

If that didn't scream friendship he didn't know what did.

"Any particular reason or…?"

"I don't want to talk, Cam. About this or anything else, so if you're done eating, I'd really like to go—"

"If you don't talk about it, you're just going to keep it bottled up. Dylan, I know you."

She rolled her eyes. "No. You don't. No one knows me."

"_Talk to me, Dylan_." He leaned forward, resting on his elbows on the table. "I'm willing to listen."

"No," she snapped, getting to her feet. "I'm not going to talk to you or anyone, so you can leave me alone now, thanks, and you can eat that stupid bagel if you want to." And with an angered turn of the heel, she was storming out, leaving Cam alone.

"Glad I tried that," he muttered, grabbing her untouched food and ripping it into pieces. If he got home at a reasonable time, maybe he could forget this all happened and crash for an hour or two before he was to get himself to Briarwood for the bus ride.

* * *

><p>"Claire!" The sound of her father's voice woke her from her slumber briefly, but the storylines of her dreams were more enticing than getting yelled at so she ignored him, settling deeper into her bed with a sleepy, content sigh. "CLAIRE!" Still, she let the sound wash over her as if she were deaf, pretending there was silence when there wasn't. It was a <em>Saturday<em> for crying out loud; it was only mandatory she sleep in. "CLAIRE STACEY LYONS!"

_Nope_.

It had to be no earlier than twelve and she really didn't want to wake just yet. She and Skye had returned from the party later than anticipated—around three—and she wasn't going to get out of bed until after two. Her dad would have to wait. It probably wasn't all that important anyway.

Even if it was, she didn't care.

She was just on the edge of unconsciousness, sleep pulling her in one second at a time, when there was a loud banging on her locked bedroom door.

_Ignore it, ignore it_, she thought to herself, pulling her sheets up to cover her body more, like whoever was on the other side could see her.

"I don't know how you can ignore Dad's shrieking" (_uck, annoying Todd, of course_) "but I recommend going downstairs before he blows a gasket. You're in some deep shit, Claire." He sounded so freakin' smug all she wanted to do was smack him upside the head. Just because he had an in with the 'most popular boys in the tenth grade' didn't make him any better than anyone else. He was so stupid.

And he was probably lying.

Knowing Todd, he only wanted her out of the room so he could steal her phone and get Skye's number. That was definitely not below him. Her dad, on the other hand… he probably wanted her to do some chores or something; she left the dirty dishes in the sink before she left for Harris', even though she told him she'd clean them… oops?

The knocking continued, loud and obnoxious just like the person performing the act. It was a good thing she was so used to ignoring Todd then. Things like this were a piece of cake to eliminate from her mind.

"Claire, I'm serious," he snapped, and she could imagine the look on his face: teeth gritted, skin a pinkish color because he was frustrated. "I know you're awake—there's no way you could sleep through all of this."

She refused to respond.

"I'm just sayin'… you're probably going to be in even more trouble because you're not owning up to it, but whatever. Not like I care what happens to you anymore."

_That_ struck a nerve. "I was your only friend at one point, Todd! Of course you care what happens to me."

Todd chuckled, a tiny snort escaping with his giggles. "You've got that mixed up. _I_ was _your_ only friend for a year, Claire."

"You were _not_—"

"Get out of your room before Dad breaks the door down."

"I'm sure it can wa—"

"_CLAIRE LYONS, I'M GIVING YOU TO THE COUNT OF THREE TO GET DOWN HERE ON YOUR OWN!_"

Not a real threat. Jay never threatened his children, not even when he was mad at them.

Except for when he got that job in Chicago and held it over their heads to get them to do chores…

"_ONE—_"

And when he planned to take them on a cruise and wanted nothing but As on their report cards or else they couldn't go…

"_TWO_—"

And that time he wanted them to shovel snow and he held Claire's camera hostage…

"_THREE_!"

Before the number even left his lips, Claire was in the living room, messy and disheveled, morning breath and all.

(It wasn't like she was scared of him or anything. It just didn't hurt to be safe, you know; she liked her door.)

After the promotion at William Block's enterprise, Jay Lyons had become something of a "Westchester dad". He was pressed and composed, wearing nothing but designer suits and coiffing his hair into a much more respectable style. Even over the weekend, he was dressed as if he were about to go to the country club—that they now belong to—in polos and khakis. Sometimes, Claire wondered if he forgot he had kids, a family, now that Judi was back in Florida after her mental breakdown.

She took him in as she rapidly ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make herself presentable. A girl should always make herself look good, no matter what the situation. Skye taught her that. It didn't matter that she was about to get scolded by her father for not following his rules. At least she'd look good in the process.

Priorities, right?

His face was beet red, the veins in his neck bulging. He looked absolutely furious, which was a bit sad given the circumstances. They were just _dishes_, no need to be a drama queen.

"So, Claire," Jay began, clearing his throat, "I was getting ready to go to a business brunch this morning"—that explained the weird khaki-polo-sweater combo going on then—"when I felt the telltale beginnings of a backache. You know as well as I do that the car accident a few years back really messed with it. Naturally, I went to go take some of my pain medication, hoping I'd be able to make it through the meeting without a hitch and get home to ice it."

Why was he telling her this? Was she supposed to care?

"I'm in the bathroom, looking through the medicine cabinet, when I come across this…" He held up a plastic bottle that looked awfully familiar, but Claire couldn't place it. "Would you like to explain to me why it's _empty_, Claire?"

"I don't know what that—"

The bottle was shoved into her face, right between her eyes. "I still can't tell what it is, _Dad_."

"Okay, I'll read it to you," he said, voice strained, but extremely controlled. "Oxycodone acetaminophen… otherwise known as Percocet."

_Percocet_. Claire felt her stomach drop, her cheeks rush with heat. _Don't make any sudden facial expressions, movements. Claire, you know nothing. You don't even know what Percocet is. Or oxycodone. Or Xanex, if he asks. _

"Prescribed to Jay F. Lyons. This prescription was renewed a couple of months back, in August. I only take it when my back aches and this has been the first time since about October. Why are all the pills gone?" He paused, searching her face for any sort of reaction. "Claire. Why is it empty?"

"I'd like to know why you're asking only me this question. Where's Todd? Why isn't he here?"

"I already talked to your brother while you were busy sleeping," her father said, grip so tight on the bottle his knuckles were turning white. "And to be quite honest, he's the one who hasn't changed since the start of this year… you are."

Claire folded her arms over her chest, pursing her lips. "You changed too, Dad. Everything about you fucking changed."

"_Watch your language, young lady_—"

"No, no, I won't!" she snapped. "You're accusing _me_ of doing god knows what with your back medication because I _changed_. You're the reason I changed! You moved us out here, let Westchester and all of New York fuck with me, and made Mom leave! You made her go, Dad! She hated it so much she _left us_!"

Jay furrowed his brow. "Did you want me to stay the same? If I hadn't adapted, we wouldn't be able to afford this house, Claire."

"It's not even ours. It's _Massie's_."

"Yet I don't see her paying the bills?"

"This isn't the time to be funny, Dad." Claire swallowed hard, narrowing her eyes at the man who had raised her. "I'm not the only one who changed, so you can't go around saying that I did."

He closed his eyes briefly, something he did when he was aggravated. "Everything about you changed: your look, your _friends_, and, most importantly, your attitude. That really has to go."

"So? I grew up."

"Okay, fine. You grew up. Stop being bratty and just answer the question. _Why_ is this empty?"

Claire could tell he was only humoring her with this—the look in his eye was enough to prove to her that he was convinced she was an entirely different person. Couldn't he see she was better off now? Skye and her friends didn't change her; they made sure her backbone was properly in place, unlike Massie, who kept trying to break it.

"I dunno." She shrugged. "I didn't even know you had that."

"Claire…"

"I knew you had back pain, but you hardly talk about it, so I thought you were healed."

"_Claire_."

"What?" she snapped. "I don't know what happened to them! Maybe I knocked them over or something. Stop looking at me like I know where they went. I said I didn't know. Do you not trust me anymore too?"

Jay sighed. "It's not you I don't trust, it's those girls you hang around with."

"Skye, Deena, Sam, and Heidi?" questioned Claire, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "You don't trust them? You don't _know_ them!"

"Exactly. I knew Massie, Alicia, Dylan, and Kristen. I knew their parents, their extracurricular activities, hobbies, sports. I even knew Cam's parents, Claire." She swallowed at the sound of his name. "One day, all of these girls are replaced by other ones, other ones I had never even heard of and you expect me to be warm and welcoming to them?"

"It's not like you pay attention to us now that Mom's gone," Claire muttered. "It's all about work."

"I do too pay attention to you, Claire." Jay's voice was getting scarily calm, making his daughter anxious and uncomfortable, but she would never show it. It was better to look completely indifferent. "I pay attention enough to notice your grades are dropping in school, to answer the phone when Dean Don calls to say that you're just about to lose your scholarship to Briarwood. I've noticed you're moodier than usual, snappy, and ruder to your brother. I know when you come in late and I can smell the alcohol all over you when you stumble in at two in the morning. I know what it's like to be in high school, Claire, and I know I can't stop you from experimenting with parties and alcohol, but when your daughter changes completely right before your eyes, something has to be done."

Claire coughed. "So what you're doing is accusing me of taking your Percocet. Yep, that's _totally_ working."

(Don't let him see you sweat.)

"Your friends talk about some things that have been concerning me, Claire, so I wouldn't be surprised if they took these from the cabinet. If you're not telling me anything to protect one of them, I suggest you stop."

"I'm not protecting anyone," she replied, trying to keep her voice even. She really just wanted to shout. "They would never do anything like that."

"Todd has shown some concern in the—"

"_Todd_?" she parroted, laughing dryly. "Of course he's behind all of this. He hates me, so he's setting me up. He took those pills obviously!"

Jay shook his head. "He just mentioned the things you and these girls talk about, Claire. 'Corrupting boys'? 'Teaching them a thing or two'? Do you know what these things mean?"

"I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were," he rebuked. "I want the truth, Claire, and I can tell you're lying to me. Fess up."

"I'm not lying, Dad." Claire licked her lips, frowning up at him, making sure to keep eye contact. Her biggest telltale was breaking eye contact; that would not happen.

He stared at her for what felt like forever before uttering what could have been the worst order she had ever heard: "If you're not lying, give me your phone."

Palms sweaty, she was very aware of the iPhone in her grasp. She didn't delete her text messages. Never. They were all there, even the ones from Josh when they dated, and Massie when they were best friends. The conversations with Skye and Deena on how to score Xanex for the OCD/Briarwood mixer they had a few weeks ago… that was there too. Everything was on her phone—Skye egging her on to take more of her dad's pills to relax and have fun, Deena telling her about this other pill that was a good time—and she had no way of deleting them.

Claire stood there, numb.

"Give me your phone."

She didn't move, _couldn't_ move. She was so far gone it didn't matter.

"Give it to me, Claire."

And then she was functioning, moving about, like she was a robot, working off someone else's commands. Her arm lifted, her fingers opened, and she dropped her phone in her father's hands. When asked, she blurted her passcode (2202) and watched as he looked through her messages. His face paled.

(**skye**: I've got xanex and a cute dress, who's down to go out  
><strong>claire<strong>: meeee  
><strong>deena<strong>: always down, always

**heidi**: do we have a plan b since skye hasn't gotten in derricks pants yet  
><strong>deena<strong>: claire can totally get him to come over next time we have a party, right  
><strong>sam<strong>: I hope so since skyes not too thrilled  
><strong>claire<strong>: he likes hot tub parties we can all just seduce him

**claire**: how many percocets should I take  
><strong>skye<strong>: 4s a nice feeling  
><strong>claire<strong>: so ill take 5)

"Go back to your room, Claire," Jay whispered, voice broken and raw. He didn't look at her, merely pocketed her phone and placed the empty bottle on the mantel. Claire felt her entire body shake, her knees hitting against one another. "Stay there. Stay there until I call you back down here. I need… I need to think and you need to go before I do something drastic."

"Dad—"

"You lied to me, Claire. You made me feel bad about everything that's happened over the course of this year and you _lied_. Just—go. Get out of my face."

Claire swallowed again, her throat sore. She nodded quickly, spinning on her heel, unable to find the strength to apologize.

* * *

><p>He was never going to a party the night before a big game… or any game in general. Derrick should've known it was a bad idea before he went. Everyone knew he got nervous the night before and this was an important event. It was the last of the season, pushed back so many times it was occurring in the wintertime, when the Tomahawks should've been off, relaxing until his father decided to train them again.<p>

And before the big championship, he went out drinking.

Just to find himself, at one thirty in the afternoon, a half hour until he had to be at his school, with his head in the toilet, his full stomach emptying itself and the bathroom reeking of alcohol vomit.

He felt achy and cold, the sweatshirt he had pulled on before making his home on the tiled floor doing nothing to keep him from shivering. His head was pounding with what felt like the worst headache in the world. Not once had he felt this awful before; he was going to blame his brother and Harris until the day he died.

But until then, he was never drinking again.

"Derrick?" A voice on the other side of the locked door startled him, forcing him to shoot right up, making his head spin. He wasn't quite sure who it was, but either way, he wasn't about to let them know he wasn't in the best shape. They all probably knew he was out last night anyway; he couldn't remember how or when he got home. "D? Are you okay?"

Derrick coughed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. The sleeve of his sweatshirt smelled gross now. "I-fine," he responded, trying to sound as normal as possible. "I'll be out in a second, sorry, Sam."

"I don't need the bathroom," she told him, voice soft. "Just open the door, please."

"I'm fine," he replied, leaning his forehead against the seat. "Can you just go?"

Sammi sighed. "Dad's going to flip if you're not downstairs in ten minutes. Please just let me in."

"I'm—I'm good—" But his body reacted in opposition to his words, filling the water with the blue-colored mixture of alcohol and juice.

"Doesn't sound like you're good, baby bro. Come on, you know once Patrick wakes up and finds out what you're doing, he'll never let you live it down."

Derrick squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight the nausea. "I hate him."

"I know, I know… so let me help you. No one wants to play soccer while trying to fight off a killer hangover, babe."

He frowned, stumbling to his feet to get to the door. Once he had unlocked it and opened it, he looked up at his sister, in all her pajama'd glory, and muttered, "Don't call me babe."

Sammi smiled at him, ruffling his hair as she walked by him to get into the bathroom. "What did you have to drink last night?" she asked, ignoring his previous statement—he knew she would continue to call him that until she found something more annoying—and sitting with her back against the door.

He shrugged, taking the glass of water she passed over. "Whatever was in the punch."

"And knowing the two idiots, it was whatever they could find around the house…" Sammi watched him as he gulped down the liquid as fast as he could, advising him to drink slower. "I told them I should've made it, but _noooo_, they knew how because they were in frats. Lame."

Derrick coughed. "Patrick's in a frat?"

"Yep. I forgot which one, but Harris is definitely in the one that serves drugged punch. He just looks like he'd fit in."

"Wow, college sounds like a _blast_."

Sammi chuckled. "Do you want me to make you some toast?"

"No." Derrick swallowed, his stomach rolling. _Don't throw up again, don't throw up again…_

"You're going to have to eat something or the bus ride will be awful, D."

He shook his head rapidly. "Can I just have some more water?"

"Course." She grabbed the cup and Derrick slumped, waiting for the sound of the faucet running, but the sound never came. Instead, he saw his sister shoot her arm out at him and he jumped at the touch of her cold fingers against his neck. "What is this, little brother?" she squealed, the sound irritating his migraine. "You sure seemed to have a good time last night."

Derrick blinked at her, not quite grasping what she was trying to say.

"Look at yourself in the mirror." She giggled, eyes filling with amusement.

Groaning, the youngest Harrington shoved himself out of sitting position, gripping the side of the sink to keep himself upright. The room was spinning—from what, he couldn't tell. It could've been the hangover or maybe it was because he got up too fast. Whatever the case, he just wanted to sit back down.

He couldn't, not when he was supposed to…

"Oh."

A full-blown cackle left his sister's lips and he was momentarily shocked a sound that loud could come from such a tiny person. But then his attention was brought back to the mirror, to his reflection, and he was fascinated by the love bites all over his neck, little purple bruises he hadn't noticed at all. The only expanse of skin left untouched was right by his Adam's apple; the rest of him was covered.

"Tell me you don't remember any of that happening," Sammi begged, unable to stop laughing. "Oh my god, _please._ That would make this ten times funnier."

"I guess that's pretty funny," he murmured thoughtfully, pulling his hood up over his messy blond locks, hiding the marks from view.

But he knew. A lot that happened last night was a blur, but this… this he could recall.

He remembered the way she looked in that dress, how even though it kept her entire body concealed, it made him want her even more. He remembered the way she looked at him, gaze dark, with a twinkle in her eye. He remembered the way his body sparked with excitement when he tugged her dress off, finally getting to see her, touch her, without clothes getting in the way.

And how her mouth felt on his, the way her hands touched him, tore his shirt off, dipped low beneath his boxers…

Derrick cleared his throat, taking the cup Sammi had left on the counter, and filling it up with water himself. He had to start thinking about something else before anything X-rated occurred in his nether regions (and he wasn't too far from _that_ happening).

"Make sure Mom and Dad don't see," Sammi advised. "They'll do nothing but interrogate you, which I'm sure you don't want."

Nodding as he swallowed a mouthful of water, Derrick urged the redness painting the apples of his cheeks to fade. It was like he was back in time, there with her, alone in that bedroom, the way he was reliving the night in his head. His entire body was heating up; he felt almost a shortness of breath as he drank his water. He didn't feel as nauseous as before but if he had to choose one, he'd rather be throwing up than experiencing this.

"Uh." He coughed. "What time is it?"

Sammi looked down at her phone. "One forty-two."

"Shit," he blurted, dropping the empty cup in the sink. "I gotta change and find my jersey and see if my phone is still in the pocket of the jeans I wore and probably brush my teeth—"

"Calm down, Derrick," his sister advised. "Deep breaths. You'll be fin—"

"No, I won't be fine. I need to be ready, like, _now_ or Dad's gonna flip." He bent over, pushed her (was she always this light?) down the wall, gripped the doorknob, and almost flung the door into her face. "Sorry, sorry! Thanks for everything, Sam, you're the best, I just gotta go. Big game, big game!"

And he was gone, racing in and out of every room on the second floor of their house, leaving Sammi completely bewildered on the bathroom floor.

* * *

><p>"Just calling to remind you that our game is today!"<p>

"Has anyone ever told you how _annoying_ you are?"

"Once or twice."

"Well, I'm telling you a third time: you are annoying."

"Mass, you have no idea how much that warms my heart."

"Now is not the time for sarcasm, Joshua."

Josh clicked his tongue three times in the receiver, making Massie pull the phone away from her ear. That was _loud_. "Wakey, wakey, friend," he finally said. "It's high time you got out of bed!"

Massie groaned, shoving her head into her pillow. "I don't remember signing up for a wakeup call…"

"It's, like, two in the afternoon, Mass," he told her, "and the stadium is about two hours from here, so I figured you'd want to be up and about so you have time to get there."

"It's _two_?" she questioned, shooting up from her bed. The sunlight made her squint as she tried to find her alarm clock—or any clock, really—to tell her the time. Josh had to be joking. "Holy shit, it's 1:57. Fuck."

He chuckled and she could practically see his shit-eating grin. "I still love your vocabulary."

"Shut it," Massie all but growled, getting to her feet quickly. She ran a hand through her matted, sweaty hair, fingers getting caught in the tangles as she paced her room. The dress she had worn was strewn carelessly across the floor, one heel by her window seat, the other under her dresser. "I-I _just_ woke up!"

"Yes, I know."

"I haven't talked to _anyone_ all day!" She caught a glimpse of herself in her mirror, gaping at her face, at the mascara that ran, the eyeliner that smudged… "I look like I _died_ and I don't know where anyone is! I don't even know how I got _home_, oh my _god_—"

Josh silenced her somehow, blurting out this whole story of how he, Kemp, Kristen, and Derrick walked home with her—where the hell was Dylan?—and she let them in, but first, the only way she would even leave the party was the promise of soup (okay, _what_?). Then, once they were at her house, she and Kristen left the three boys in her kitchen to go gossip upstairs while Massie changed into pajamas.

"I sound like the stupidest person on this planet."

"I mean, you are, but…"

"Ha _ha_," Massie retorted. "I still need to shower, Josh! I need to find my friends and figure out who's driving and what's going on and where is Chris? Is he coming with us? I don't know, I don't know."

"Are you talking to me or yourself?"

"A little bit of both, I think."

"Well, I can tell you Chris isn't home—"

"—_Chris isn't home!_—"

"Yeah, that's what I just said," Josh spoke slowly, as if Massie were five, "so you should probably call him to see what's up. I mean, you could call all of them, really, because that would be much easier than texting, more effective, too. The game is at seven and you want the best seats so you can see my flawless face, so you'd wanna get there early, so leave right after dinner, which means you have to find all the friends _before_ dinner, which might be a challenge, and—"

"_Bye_."

Josh was still speaking when she hung up on him. Tossing her phone on her bed, she ran a hand across her face, sighing heavily. How could she possibly manage to sleep _this_ late? Granted, she had slept through the hangover she knew would've made her miserable, but _still_. She had things to do, homework she wanted to finish before the game! And all of that was tossed out the window. Fabulous.

The best thing she could do was go shower, letting the hot water calm her down so she could think properly and not be such a jumpy mess. So what if she woke up late? It was cool. She'd clean herself up, get dressed, find out where her friends were, and get this show on the road. She would be of no help to anyone if she was fluttering about like a crazed lunatic.

She took a deep breath, plugged her phone into the iHome and raised the volume to its maximum potential before padding into her bathroom. The beginning notes of Demi Lovato's "Made in the USA" followed her through the closed door, and even as the water was turned on, she could still hear the sound of the girl's voice. She stripped of her pajamas—she couldn't recall the last time she wore _this_ shirt—and tied her hair on the top of her head, seeing as that would be dealt with last.

With one last glance at the mirror to rub the rest of her makeup off her face, Massie was ready to—

She shrieked.

"Mass?" she heard her dad call from downstairs, frantic. "Is everything alright up there?"

"Yeah, I uh—just saw a spider," Massie loudly replied. If William heard her, she had no idea, but he wasn't racing to her room, so she figured he had.

And that was a good thing, seeing as she was looking at not a spider but a colossal mark upon her skin. Mark_s_ would actually be more like it.

It wasn't that Massie had never gotten a hickey before. She had. All the girls of the Pretty Committee had "emergency" kits in their lockers on the rare occasion their rendezvous with their respective boyfriends during lunch ended up with irritated bruises against their décolletages—but that had been at OCD. And Massie wasn't some prude that refused to offer up her neck when things got heated; in fact, that was her favorite place to be kissed. That is, if she had to choose. The thing about _this_ one was she could hardly remember why and how it got there.

All she could remember was Derrick. Derrick, Derrick, Derrick—his golden hair, his eyes the color of caramel, his hands—oh _god_, his hands…

But that was it. The rest was a blur. The actions, the touches—none of it was ringing a single bell in her mind. This was a feeling she was accustomed to: she experienced it every time she sat down for a math test. Nothing made sense; nothing was clicking, even though she knew the material.

She was never drinking the punch again.

(Or going to math class, but that was a different story.)

After checking her body once again to make sure what she had to cover up—there was one on her _hip_, excuse _me_—she sighed, jumping into the shower before she could turn all of this into a bigger deal than it was.

Which, she probably should've been, because she and Cam technically never ended their relationship. But then again, they never defined it, so how could they end something that was never set in stone? Regardless she'd have to talk to him about it at some point in time, even though they both knew it was something that wouldn't last.

The hot water beating down felt good against her sweaty, clammy skin. Her calves ached; her feet were sore. She didn't understand why she still wore heeled shoes out when she was a hundred percent sure she did nothing but fall in them, but… whatever.

She stayed in the shower much longer than necessary, poking and prodding at the marks decorating her hipbones, lathering them up in soap and wondering if she could make them disappear by scrubbing. She couldn't.

By the time she was out of the bathroom and wrapped in a towel, she had three new messages in the group chat with the girls, Chris had texted her, and Josh had left her a rather mean voicemail about hanging up on him.

She ignored the girls, noticing Alicia just put a bunch of question marks in the group and headed towards Chris'.

(_mom's letting me drive the car to the game so if you and the girls want a ride I can come get you_)

Massie furrowed her brow, quickly sending a message right back—he didn't know how to drive, did he? She hadn't even thought about learning since her birthday was in July and she wouldn't be eligible for driver's ed until next year…

That made her realize she knew none of the boys' birthdays. Oops.

_I have my permit, _Chris replied, _and I'm a pretty careful driver or else mom wouldn't say yes. I promise you won't die._

This was their only option, so she responded positively, told him to come get them after dinner (or eat dinner with them, whatever he wanted), and shot the girls the idea.

She figured one of them wouldn't be so down with it, but all they ended up doing was fighting over who got shotgun.

* * *

><p><strong>thehurley<br>**I'm going to throw up all over this bus

**hoshjotz**  
>not while I'm sitting next to you you won't <em>thehurley<em>


	37. thirty six

i hope you like this because it was a killer to write!

* * *

><p>The car was silent, save for the way some old rock 'n roll song bounced off the closed doors and windows, a soft concert playing in the old BMW. Chris held the steering wheel with shaky hands, taking deep breaths of oxygen into his lungs in a futile attempt to calm himself down. He was unsure as to what caused him to panic as much as he was; he had driven before, taken his friends places without his mother's consent. He borrowed the car, went over the speed limit, raced around just for fun, and yet, when he was allowed to, handed the shiny keys and told to be safe, he was a wreck.<p>

He was a good driver. His driving instructor told him that much: His turns were easy as opposed to Maddie Glassman's, which made him feel like they were in the Batmobile, and he stayed nice and center in the lane when driving on the parkway. There was no reason for him to feel so… amateur. It was just… he didn't want to let anyone down. Josh was riding his ass about getting to the stadium on time, his mother wanted to know when he left and when he got there, and there was a game he _should_ be playing in, the first in a long time that he wasn't preparing for, feeling the usual nervous, anticipatory aches and pains as Coach Harrington made them shoot soccer balls at the speed of light into Derrick's goal.

He had to push aside the empty feeling in his stomach that was making him feel so goddamn awful about himself. What he did to get kicked off the team, although incredibly unfair on Coach's end, was the right thing to do. It wasn't like he was cut because he sucked; there was a clear "no fighting" policy in the sports contract and he had breached it. Danny was an asshole and Harrington only saw stars when it came to the game and although he got pushed aside and Danny benched, it was fine. Totally fine.

This was the first time it was hitting him that he _wasn't there_. For weeks, months even, it hadn't bothered him. Chris could care less about losing his coveted spot on the soccer team. He had a shit ton of homework to do, more time to study, and the ability to help students understand material better than ever before. Kristen deserved his spot. She really did. She was a phenomenal player; he could tell she missed the sport.

Honestly, he knew how she felt. There was something in the way the field felt beneath his cleats, the wind in his face, the cheers of the crowd—Briarwood was known for their soccer team and he was one of their star players. And now he was off, driving to the game to sit in the bleachers, watching.

It created an ache that would never go away.

With that came a desire to turn around and not go. It was the championship game, the one that was postponed so many times it seemed like a mirage. Between tropical storms and blizzards, it was almost too good to be true that tonight was the night. To him, though, it made sense. The day the entirety of the soccer team was hungover as hungover could be was the day they were scheduled to play. They could get it together, they always did, but Chris didn't want to be there to see it happen.

Why go to a game he wasn't playing in? It made him nauseous just thinking about watching his best friends and teammates go through numerous plays he had memorized since the sixth grade. Kristen was right about not going to see the Sirens play when they asked her about it: There was no point.

But he had to go. His friends were counting on him to be there, to cheer them on, since he had avoided every other game like the plague. And they knew as much as he did that _avoiding_ was the absolute best way to describe it. He spread himself so thin after school, tutoring well into the sixth hour. Excuses after excuses piled up on his tongue, some so stupid that it was obvious he was making them up, but he didn't want to be there. He didn't want to be there now. Although he could've easily told the girls he wasn't down to go, he wasn't about to let his pride dictate his life. No use in being butthurt—it wasn't going to get him anywhere.

The sound of his text message tone broke him of his thoughts, a much needed distraction from his psyche attacking his defenses.

**massie [4:13]**: are you sure you don't wanna come in?  
><strong>chris [4:14]<strong>: yeah, I'd prob just get in the way are you going to be long?  
><strong>massie [4:14]<strong>: are you in a hurry to leave bc dylan's having a hair crisis and she'll be whiny if she's not happy with how it looks  
><strong>chris [4:15]<strong>: no no I just thought you guys wanted to eat and alicia said she'd be quick  
><strong>massie [4:16]<strong>: oh I'm sorry we'll come out right now if you want  
><strong>chris [4:16]<strong>: no don't sweat it I'll go get the pizza now if you want to eat it at home and you can take all the time you want  
><strong>massie [4:17]<strong>: ah you're the best chris! Sorry we're so annoying

He didn't really mind, though, twisting the key in the ignition to get the car going. Something to do was good for him, even if it was going out of the way to Slice of Heaven to get a pie. The thoughts he was convinced he had hidden wouldn't bother him as he focused on the rules of the road. After all, he couldn't get in any trouble; driving with a permit without an adult in the car was illegal, although it made no sense as to why he cared so much about that now.

The streets of Westchester were quieter than usual, no teens making a ruckus like they normally did, holding suspicious Vitamin Water bottles and getting louder and louder as they drank the contents. He figured it was because everyone was either getting ready to go to the championship game… or maybe it was because it was four in the afternoon. Either one, really: an unacceptable hour never got in the way of a good drunken time.

It took fifteen minutes to get to their usual pizza place; it would've taken less if Chris had decided to stay on the main roads, but a little detour never hurt anyone, and he really liked to look at the way people decorated their houses for the winter holidays.

He pulled the car into an empty spot in front of the restaurant, noticing that the place was as hoppin' as it was on any other day. It would take almost a half hour to get his pizza if he were lucky.

With a sigh, he tugged the door open, the bell jingling above him even though no one could hear it over the buzz of the customers and the music blaring through the speakers installed into the walls. A game was put on mute, a sport Chris couldn't exactly make out, and he pushed and shoved his way to the counter, accidentally elbowing what looked like a middle schooler in the ribs.

"—don't sit on the counter, please! Two large pepperoni pizzas, fresh out of the oven!" A bell was rung and Chris wondered if anyone could actually hear it; he had to strain to himself and he was right by it. A flurry of movement came from right behind him, a man gripping the boxes with a quick "thank you" leaving his lips. The blond girl turned her attention on Chris, "Good afternoon, how can I help you?"

"Uh, yeah, hey, I'm gonna need a—_Olivia_?"

The girl looked up from her notepad, pen poised against the paper, blue eyes widening just a fraction. "Chris, hey!"

He faltered, staring at the girl that was Alicia's 'best friend' for a year, the bane of the Pretty Committee's existence, her blond hair tied into an elaborate braid, an orange Slice of Heaven shirt adorning her petite frame. "Hey." He coughed, offering up a smile. "I didn't know you worked here."

She blushed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah… just something Mom thought would be good for me. Get experience and whatnot," she explained with a shrug. "It's been pretty tight with money and all since the 'rents divorced, so…"

"Oh." Chris nodded like he totally understood. "I bet you learn some good multitasking skills here."

Olivia laughed. "Totally. I can answer a phone and write down someone's order from the counter at the same time. I'm a pro."

"Looks like it," Chris waved his hand around, the people around her working like maniacs, "but I don't want to hold you up so… can I just have a plain pie please? Large."

"You got it." She scribbled it down, pinned it to the window by the kitchen, and rang yet another bell. "Give it fifteen minutes, I'd say," she told him, quickly and effectively pushing him to the side and taking another order.

He leaned up against the counter, tapping his fingers to the pop song currently playing, something by Justin Bieber maybe. Time went by, the line shortened, people he noticed and those he didn't coming and going. Pizzas came flying in and out of the kitchen, packed into boxes, shoved into the hands of waiting customers.

Olivia Ryan was back at his side, an odd silence falling upon A Slice of Heaven as it emptied, the only people remaining being those who were seated, eating together. Chris could see a group of tweens in the back of the room, five boys and five girls, giggling and talking. The guys stuffed their faces; the girls ignored the pizzas, breadsticks, and garlic knots. He felt a wry smile pull at his lips, remembering when that had been he and his friends, trying to impress their crushes while they acted disgusted at their actions… when things had been easy.

"The big game's tonight, isn't it?" Olivia's question broke him free of his memories, reminding him that he was no longer in the eighth grade, that there were more important things than playing soccer all day long and trying to act cool in front of girls.

"Yeah. Seven thirty. Finally."

"No offense, but…" She looked at the clock behind her. "Shouldn't you be there by now? I thought Derrick's dad was real strict about these things."

Chris shook his head, that empty feeling filling him again, almost like a wave taking him down, down, down at the beach; he was drowning in it. "No—no," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. He peeked at the group at the other end of the room—they had to be about twelve, thirteen maybe—and none of them would ever anticipate getting kicked off the soccer team. It was too important to them. A lifestyle it was, not just a pastime. A girl's reputation would never make them second guess that… "I'm not actually on the team."

Olivia furrowed her brows in confusion, staring at him in complete disbelief. He could see why Derrick liked spending so much time with her. She wasn't as stupid as she made herself out to be year in and year out. The way she looked at him made him feel like he was the only thing in the entire room, that whatever he said would stay with her and only her. No one would have ever guessed Olivia Ryan, OCD's number one ditz, would be good at listening, but she sure as hell looked the part.

"I… I punched Danny Robbins in the face." Chris cleared his throat, turning his head to avoid the look on her face.

One of the boys kissed a girl's cheek. She squeaked loudly, face reddening, and hit him in the shoulder. He only grinned at her before he ate an entire slice in two bites. _Carefree_.

"And you got kicked off the team because of it?"

"Briarwood has a no tolerance policy." He tried to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, but still, with the championship being so close—a few hours to go—he couldn't shake the disappointed feeling. "The teams have an even stricter one… and I shouldn't have done it, but… He wasn't being as—I was pissed, so I wasn't thinking. He deserved it. I wouldn't have hit him if he didn't. You just… you just don't go around saying shit like he did. You don't."

"So that was true," Olivia murmured, grabbing his box of pizza when the little bell dinged. At the look on his face, she continued, "It got around OCD you punched him in the face because, um, Alicia slept with him and all of this other stuff was said… and then there was this other rumor, but I really don't like to listen to that kind of stuff."

Chris took the hot cardboard, placing it on the counter. "What was the other rumor, Olivia?"

"I… I really don't—it's not nice, Chris."

Alicia couldn't be the brunt of any more harsh words. Not after all this. Not while she was struggling with another crisis. He wasn't going to let her be a joke. Not now, not ever.

"Tell me what it is. _Please_."

The blond swallowed, wiping her hands on her shirt and straightening out the hem. "Well… Skye Hamilton was going around—"

"_Of course_," Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Of course."

"Um, yeah." She bit down on her lower lip, nibbling slightly as she mulled over the words in her head. "Basically, uh, Skye—she said you and Danny got into a fight because you two were involved in a—" She coughed. "—a threesome with Alicia and Danny didn't exactly share because Alicia wanted him more than you and you got the short end of the stick and… Chris, I really don't want to finish saying this."

He shook his head, fingers gripping the box once more. "You don't have to. I think I got the gist."

"I'm… I'm sorry," Olivia looked torn, lost. "Everyone listens to Skye blindly. She's ruled the school since Massie got kicked out of OCD."

"Everyone?" he questioned. If absolutely every single girl at that school followed Skye and hung on to her every word… Alicia was seen as the school slut, just like Danny said every day. She was portrayed like she begged for it, like she had boys fighting over her because she didn't devote as much time to them during their nights together… It was all a lie. And Alicia could never find out about any of it.

She nodded. "No one fights her."

"But I thought… at least when I had a meeting with the student council, they said a lot of people would play powderpuff because they could throw her around…"

"Well, yeah," Olivia replied. "They just don't say it out loud. Skye's a bitch, Chris, but no one's going to get on her bad side. Look at Alicia… no one wants to turn into that."

"What is she doing? Using Alicia as an example?"

Olivia shrugged. "I wouldn't know, but it's my best guess. If I were Skye at least I would want to show people what would happen to them if they try to overstep their boundaries… and what better way to prove to everyone that she's the it girl now then by going after the girls that used to rule the school?"

Chris shook his head, his temples pounding with what felt like the beginning of an insane migraine. "Yeah, I guess," he muttered. "Well, uh—will I see you at the game tonight?" He had to stop thinking about it, about how much he wanted to wring Skye's neck, about how angry he was.

"Sadly, no. I've gotta work until closing tonight. Should be interesting."

"Yeah." Chris forced a smile, but he could tell by the way Olivia did not return it that it wasn't exactly the best. "I better get going before everyone thinks I died or something. Thanks."

She lifted her hand in a wave, watching him go. "See you later."

.

.

.

"Chris says he'll be back in ten," Alicia informed, fingers speeding across the touch screen of her phone. "He hopes everyone is happy with how they look by then."

Massie giggled, patting the top of Dylan's head affectionately. When the two girls had arrived, the redhead's hair had been a train wreck; after forty-five minutes, the tugging of a comb, and almost a whole bottle of anti-frizz, the normal, heavy curls were transformed into loose waves that framed her heart-shaped face. "I think we got it covered."

"Thank _god_." Although the words were cheerful, the redhead's face was puckered up as if she had sucked on something sour. She raked her fingers through her vibrant locks, parting it back to her usual style, but still—she wasn't pleased with the way it looked. It hung limp, lifeless… she felt the exact same.

The brunette stepped away from her, pulling open her dresser, a five-drawer piece of furniture that she was slowly starting to put the clothes she wore consistently inside, rifling through the contents. "I didn't get a good look before, what are you guys wearing?"

Alicia looked up from her phone for a brief second, making eye contact with Dylan in the mirror. "A sweatshirt, yogas."

"You're wearing yoga pants in public?" questioned Massie, turning her head to look at the Latina. "I thought you were against that fad."

She shrugged. "I wanted to be comfy."

"I'm just wearing a v-neck sweater and jeans," Dylan answered, attempting to clip her hair back. Her nose scrunched up as soon as she was completed, her face looking fatter than usual. _That_ was saying something. "In blue, of course. Red makes me look like a tomato."

Massie sighed, running a hand across her face. "I don't think I have _anything_ navy or burgundy." She slammed a drawer shut, opening another. "Why couldn't their colors be the same as OCD?"

"You don't have anything school spirited anyway," Alicia responded offhandedly.

"I have more gold than I do maroon," she muttered, tying her chestnut tresses in a sloppy bun at the nape of her neck. "How do you even _have_ that?"

Alicia looked down at her outfit, taking in the _BRIARWOOD ACADEMY TOMAHAWKS _written across her chest. She knew if she turned around they would see a huge number 52 on her back. "It's actually Chris'."

Dylan's hand dropped from her scalp where it had been messing and tugging. She twisted her body to get a better look at her friend, eyes narrowing. "You're kidding," she spoke, no hint of emotion in her voice. When Alicia didn't respond, she pursed her lips, "Why do you have Plovert's sweatshirt?"

"He got sick of waiting for me to find something to wear and let me borrow it." She brushed her too-long bangs out of her face, tucking them behind her ear.

"You let him in your _house_?"

"I never said that."

"But you did, didn't you?" Dylan demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "You let him into your house, into your _room_, right? Because I know you wouldn't let anyone wait outside in the cold… but why was he anywhere near your house, Alicia? Better yet: why were you _with_ him?"

Alicia blinked. "I don't know what you're asking me here; you're going around in circles."

"I just want to know why you have his sweatshirt, that's all."

"You're being very hostile about it," Massie cut in, still looking through her closet for something to wear. "Why does it matter if she has it?"

"Why does it matter?" Dylan asked them, scoffing. "Why? You want to know _why_? Do you not remember what he did to me? Did you forget all the things he said? The pig pictures, the oinks… I was an insecure mess for five months! And you're asking me why it _matters _that one of my _best friends_ has his sweatshirt? Are you _serious_?"

"It's just a sweatshirt, Dylan."

"Would it be just a sweatshirt if it were Derrick's, Mass?" the redhead shot back at her, eyebrows furrowing in a mix of anger and disbelief. "Wouldn't it matter just a little bit more if it belonged to someone who hurt you, who used you, kicked you when you were feeling down?"

Alicia's lips tugged downward. "I thought you two were past this. Didn't he apologize?"

"Yeah, he did, but that doesn't mean I forgave him," Dylan snapped, her emotions getting the best of her, as they had for what felt like the past three weeks. "I can't just let him get away with making me feel like the smallest person on the planet. That's not who I am. And I don't know how you guys—especially you two—can do it. Derrick and Josh, your two _best_ friends…" She spoke these words harshly, a bitterness staining every syllable. "What they did to you was unforgivable and yet here you are with open arms, letting them run right back to you as if they did nothing wrong! I thought you were better than that."

"It's time to let bygones be bygones," Alicia argued. "We can't hold grudges forever. I thought you were okay with that."

"I was… when I thought we were only going to be friendly to them. Maybe say hello when we passed them by in the halls or outside of school. I thought the whole point of going to Briarwood was to forget about boys and make everyone aware that we still ruled. Alicia, you wanted to meet _new_ boys, didn't you? Create relationships with them—with the lacrosse guys, the football players… but you've just run back to the stupid soccer players who go out of their way to make us miserable."

Alicia opened her mouth to speak, but Dylan continued, glaring dangerously in the Latina's direction. "Josh played you for a whole year just to get to _Claire_. Massie, you could care less about him but then we walk into their school and he does one nice thing and you're suddenly smitten—"

"—okay, Dylan, that's not what happened—"

"—I don't really care. You two act like you're in love with one another and it makes me sick, like the two of you can't do one thing without the other. I don't know how you can be so close with someone who only led your best friend on, but I guess I just have old-fashioned morals. And Alicia, you're clinging on to a boy who out of the blue called Massie immature like he's the only person who can save you from your own self-destruction."

"_Self-destruction_?" Alicia coughed out a laugh, taking a step forward. It was a move she had perfected over the years, used to make her victim, if you could even call them that, intimidated. It always worked, but she guessed it wouldn't be as effective on someone who had known her since the fourth grade, the very same person who had learned the move with her. "I don't think hanging out with a bunch of boys we have a shaky history with can be defined as 'self-destruction,' but nice try."

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it." Dylan's voice was silky smooth, like she was dangling something over her head. The look in her eye made Alicia uncomfortable; she hated it when people tried to threaten her.

"Yeah?" Alicia shot back. "Would you like to tell me how I'm self-destructing? Last time I checked, I was doing nothing—"

"Nothing but sleeping with every guy willing to pull his pants down!"

"_Dylan_," Massie hissed, shooting her one of her patented "shut the fuck up" glares. Her voice was nothing but stern; she absolutely hated having to raise her voice unless necessary.

"Stop defending her, Massie!" Dylan snapped. "There's no reason for you to make excuses for a slut like her."

Despite her better judgment, Alicia allowed a gasp to escape her lips. "_Slut_? I'm not a _slut_."

"Yeah, well, word on the street is that you're nothing but a pathetic, whiny beggar."

"Dylan, stop right now," Massie all but ordered, forgetting about her previous task at hand. "You know we don't listen to rumors. Unless, of course, we're the ones spreading them."

"How can I not? How can I just ignore them when the person I thought was my friend wasn't telling me the truth? Wasn't telling _any of us_ the truth?" Dylan rolled her eyes in Alicia's direction, not bothering to look at her. "Did you think you could keep something like this from us? We're not stupid."

Alicia wet her lips nervously. "I didn't… I don't think you guys are stupid, I just—I just didn't know how to tell you guys… I thought you would hate me."

"I wouldn't have hated you if you had just _told_ us," Dylan replied, almost in exasperation. "I don't like keeping secrets from you guys—I thought we all felt the same. I guess not, though, since you haven't spoken a word of the truth since we got to this fucking school." She flicked her head to get the hair out of her eyes. "Is that why you haven't told us about your newfound friendship with Plovert? Is it because you're fucking him?"

"You _believe_ these guys? You believe them over _me_?" Alicia raised her voice just enough to her point across. She didn't care if she had to yell or scream or cry. Dylan had to understand. They both did. "I'm your best friend, Dylan! And I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away when I made the mistake of sleeping with Danny Robbins, but I was _embarrassed_. I didn't know I wasn't allowed to hurt over it."

"So you hurt over it for—excuse me, how long? And when the time came that you were ready to talk about it, you chose _boys_ over us? The first person you confided in was Derrick Harrington… and let me guess, you slept with him afterwards? Because there's no way any guy would want to stay by your side unless you were putting out—"

"Dylan, what is _wrong_ with you?" Massie cut in, voice so soft and so calm it sent goosebumps up Alicia's arms. "Why are you suddenly acting out—"

Dylan threw her head back and cackled, a sound that was so foreign to the girl's personality that Alicia wondered if she was possessed by some supernatural force. "Why does something have to be wrong with _me_? Don't you think there's something wrong with _her_?"

"No… not everyone has to be open," Massie explained slowly. The crease in between her eyebrows was deepening. "You don't tell us all your problems, do you, Dylan? It took us forever to get you to open up about your eating problems."

"That's different," the redhead muttered stubbornly.

"Is it?" Massie countered, amber-eyed gaze set intensely on Dylan, who was looking anywhere but at her. "Why does Alicia have to tell us everything if she's not ready? Why can't she confide in other people? We do we have to cling to each other so much?"

"Of course," Dylan hissed. "I should've seen this coming."

"What does that mean?" Alicia asked, furious with the way her voice was shaking. Dylan Marvil should not have this effect on her; once upon a time, Alicia was the beta of the Pretty Committee, Massie's right-hand man, the one with the quick tongue. Dylan had never once made her nervous… why did she now?

Dylan glanced at her, her eyes full of anger and hatred. "This. Why did I think the three of us could hang out together and everything would be peachy keen?"

"I don't…"

"Together—you guys, me, Kristen—we're a good group, but when we're not a foursome, it's never the same. We split up into our own little groups and when there isn't a fourth member, I'm ignored, the two of you in your own little world. So it makes sense that you're defending Alicia, Mass. She's always been your favorite."

"That's a load of shit and you know it," Massie snapped.

Dylan shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. I know which one it is, but you probably need some help figuring that out. And I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna stay here and go to some stupid soccer game with stupid Chris Plovert and get ignored because the two of you are the best of all best friends, alright? Have a good time."

It was silent as the youngest Marvil puttered around Massie's room, grabbing her things. Alicia watched her, throat dry and morale low. Shoving her feet in her Uggs and tugging her winter coat on to cover up the sweater she was wearing, Dylan slowly made her way towards the bedroom door, pale hand gripping the knob so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Are you really just going to leave, Dylan?" the Latina croaked. Why did she care so much if the girl was turning her back on them and not going to a soccer game? She'd get over it. She always did… but why did this feel so real? Why did her heart hurt so much? Something about it was definite, final.

She didn't turn around. Her voice was soft when she replied, "I don't belong here anymore, Alicia. You and I both know that."

And then she was gone, a blur of red hair and black fabric, leaving Alicia dumbstruck and confused, wondering what that was supposed to mean.

.

.

.

"I don't understand," Chris murmured, looking at the backseat in his rearview mirror. Alicia was curled up into a ball on the leather, head against the window, eyes shut. "What happened?"

The car ride wasn't anything like they had expected; there was no Top 40, no obnoxious giggling, and, most of all, no Dylan. He hadn't asked when he witnessed the sight in front of him upon returning to the Block estate, pizza in hand. Alicia had been in the same fetal position she was now, leaning up against Massie's bed, telling her friend over and over again how sorry she was for being a bad friend. Something inside of her had snapped and he merely sat down next to her and brought her into his lap, running his fingers through her hair, mimicking the actions he had performed the night before.

"Dylan called her a slut," Massie replied, equally as quiet. "She believes all the rumors, Chris. She flat out told her that we knew she slept with Danny and basically tore her down for it. I was only waiting for her to feel comfortable enough to tell me... and obviously there's something going on that's made her feel even worse." She anxiously tapped her fingers against her thigh, humming along to the Poison song playing on the radio.

"That doesn't sound like Dylan."

"I know, but apparently we don't know her as well as we thought." The brunette shook her head, still unable to believe her best friend had done something like that. Hadn't they made a pact to stick together this year? "She doesn't like that we're friends with you guys again, says we shouldn't be after everything you've put us through—and I really don't know why I'm telling you all this. Maybe she's right."

Chris held her gaze when he stopped the car at a red light. "She's not, Mass." He said this with such fervor that Massie had no doubt he was elected president of their class. He just instilled some sort of belief into her and he hadn't said anything worth listening to. She guessed when he was passionate about something, he made everyone else feel the same. "Look, I know we suck big time and the things we did last year and even the year before are unforgivable, but we're trying. There's no way for us to learn from our mistakes if we don't get the chance. I'm sorry that you're the girls we want to be around, but there's no changing that. You know we'd bug you regardless. We're not terrible people even though it may seem like it. Honestly, we're just shocked you let us back in."

Massie blinked, staring forward out the window, the bright lights temporarily blinding her. "Me too," she said. "You don't know how badly I wanted to keep you guys away, to keep all guys away. I just wanted to focus on each other and try to strengthen our friendship again. It just seemed that when boys were in the picture, we forgot what really mattered… and look what's happened this year. Claire's gone and I have a feeling Dylan's hanging on by a thread. I can't lose them, Chris. I can't—I can't be alone. And for some reason, I trust you enough to tell you this."

"You're not going to be alone, Massie," he told her, "and I'm happy you feel comfortable enough to talk to me about these things. But even if every one of those girls left you, you'd still have us. Josh would make sure of it; that kid seems to think the stars shine right out of your ass."

She giggled weakly. "It's just… am I not a good friend or something? What am I doing wrong that makes them keep leaving me?"

"I'd say you're handling everything that gets thrown at you pretty well."

"I'm not going anywhere, Mass," Alicia's voice spoke up from the backseat.

The brunette twisted her body to get a good look at her friend. "I thought you were asleep back there."

"No, just thinking," she murmured. "But really, I'm not going anywhere. I thought you'd be the one to leave me."

"For what reason?"

"Because I thought you'd hate me for sleeping with Danny Robbins."

Massie shook her head. Did her friends really think that way about her? Were they _scared_ to tell her things because they figured she would just explode? Was that how she used to act? "I could never hate you for that," she replied, "I'm just a little confused about the whole thing, that's all."

"I'll explain it, but I'd rather tell everyone so I don't have to repeat myself. If Dylan can easily believe the things those other boys are saying about me"—her voice broke here—"then you guys can too. And, honestly, I feel so shitty about what happened with her… I can't go through it again."

"I wouldn't worry about her," Chris told her, flicking on his blinker to follow the line of cars heading into the parking lot.

Alicia sniffled. "How can I not worry?" she questioned, rubbing her eye with her sleeve. At this point, her face was completely bare, makeup wiped off every so often with the material of Plovert's sweatshirt. She couldn't bring herself to care about it. "She's my best friend."

The car inched forward. "But she's also someone who didn't let you speak up. She let herself draw the wrong conclusions. She should know after all these years of being friends with you guys that things aren't always what they seem. If _we_ can, I don't understand why she can't."

"It just hurts, Chris," Alicia spoke softly, sounding much farther away than a few inches. "The fact that she thinks I'm a liar because I wasn't able to open up as soon as it happened… I feel like crap. I've never wanted anyone to think this bad of me and I honestly never thought one of my friends would fall into that category. I thought friends were supposed to stand by you through thick and thin."

Massie nibbled on her lower lip, observing the commotion around them. People piled out of the SUVs, sedans, and trucks, decked out in various colors; she didn't know who Briarwood was playing against, but their supporters were dressed in black and green.

She wanted desperately to be able to think about something, but her mind was drawing a blank. It was like she had nothing left to focus on—or maybe she had too much—and was unable to bring herself to that point. She kept asking herself what to do, how to handle the situations thrown at her in the past two days and she was very well aware that the answer to these questions was a simple three-worded phrase. _I don't know._

And that was the one thing she hated more than the dual-pattern trend. She normally had an answer for everything, a plan of action to make things better, and here she was, at a loss. Unable to make her friends, and even herself, feel better, she felt worthless and stupid. They trusted and relied on her and all she could do was let them mope in the misery and walk out the door. She sure possessed the qualities of an awful friend.

"You wanna know what my mom always tells me, Leesh?" the boy next to her asked, stopping the car short when two middle school aged kids darted in front of him. His arm shot out to keep Massie from shooting forward too much. "She says high school is when you figure out who's always going to be there for you and who isn't. I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe that's what this is. Maybe this is Dylan's way of telling you that she's not going to be there when this all ends."

A silence fell upon the trio again, the tension so palpable they could reach out and grab it, packing it like snowballs in their hands. Outside the two-ton vehicle, an excited chatter fell upon the stadium, a mixture of squeals and taunts. Even after Chris found a parking spot and the keys were pulled out of the ignition, they stayed seated. It was like they were unable to join the festivities after what had occurred back in Westchester; no one was looking forward to watching the game.

Surprisingly enough, it was Alicia who got them moving. She unbuckled her seatbelt and fixed the beanie perched on the top of her head. "We should go find the rest of them. I wanted to wish Kristen good luck before we sat down."

"Yeah," Massie agreed, "and I wanted to get hot chocolate."

They all piled out, becoming one with the crowd, paying the usual fee that went towards scholarships. Chris led them towards the locker rooms, his hand going to squeeze Alicia's. Massie pretended not to notice the way their fingers intertwined together, figuring she'd be clued in eventually. She wasn't going to jump down Alicia's throat.

"I was beginning to think you guys were gonna bail!" Josh's voice was the first thing she heard. A small smile formed on her face at the sound of it, the knot in her stomach loosening. Not everything was about the constant drama she found herself stuck in.

"You really think we'd skip out on the championship game?" Chris asked, slapping Josh's palm with his own. "How were the kiddies?"

Josh leaned up against the fence, looking exhausted and sweaty despite the fact that the game started in a little less than forty-five minutes. "No one threw up thankfully, though we had some close calls. And by close calls I mean that Kemp was dry heaving for a good fifteen minutes in the bathroom. Try explaining_ that_ one to Coach."

"Where's Kris?" Alicia asked, balancing on her tip toes to search the field.

"She's somewhere with Cam, I think. She's been pretty—hey, where's Dylan?" He squinted his eyes, looking past them as if the redhead would appear at the mention of her name.

This caused Alicia to look down at her feet, biting the inside of her cheek as she toed the ground. "Um…"

Chris shared a glance with Massie, tugging the Latina closer to him. Her arms immediately wrapped around his waist, her face hidden in his side. Yeah, that would definitely need some explaining.

"She… wasn't feeling up to it," the brunette fibbed, making a face at her terrible excuse. Josh raised his eyebrows at her like she knew he would—he always seemed to know when she wasn't telling the truth—and she mouthed, _I'll tell you later_. She only hoped by that time she'd have a story to tell that made more than a bit of sense to her.

"Right." Josh nodded. "It is a little bit colder than I thought it would be so that's understandable."

_You don't even know the half of it_, Massie thought bitterly. None of it made any sense. She hated not being able to piece it all together. She would spend the entirety of the soccer game trying to do so even though it was useless. There was nothing she could do.

For a moment, she watched Alicia, barely listening to Chris as he spoke to Josh. She had never once seen her friend in this state, _clinging_ to someone the way she was. Alicia was used to being talked about. They all were. They knew most people didn't like them, but at OCD, the girls were too scared to talk about them so negatively the way the Briarwood boys did. It was almost like a slap in the face, a breath of fresh air Massie wished they didn't have to experience. They couldn't be sheltered forever, she knew that much, but if only they could have been treated that way for a little longer.

At least, for the most part, there was a support system. Alicia just needed to believe they wouldn't go anywhere.

"Josh, have you seen Kem—oh, I see Plov didn't kill you guys on the way here." The familiar voice of Derrick sent shivers up her spine; the bruises marking the skin hiding behind her scarf tingled at his very presence. She didn't want to look at him, but her mind was just as numb as it was before. Her gaze met his for the briefest of moments, taking in the freckles upon his nose and the brilliant grin that lit up his face.

If only she could forget the way those lips felt or how they parted to reveal his tongue…

"Ha _ha_." The other boy broke her free of her thoughts and Massie cleared her throat uncomfortably. It wasn't like her to get so rated R, not even in her head. "Don't listen to him, guys. I'm a good driver."

"Yeah, alright," Derrick teased. "I just feel bad you have to be in the car with him for _another_ hour and a half… or longer, if everyone leaves at the same time."

Alicia wrinkled her nose. "He's not _bad_, Derrick. Stop being a butt."

"I almost didn't see you there, Leesh." There was an amused twinkle in his eye as he stared at her, Alicia's form dwarfed by Chris' taller one. "Didn't know you and Plovert were a package deal."

She shrugged. "Don't be too jealous, Derry."

"I told you to stop calling me _thaaaaat_," he whined, stomping his foot comically. "I don't call you Boobear, do I?"

"That's what my dad calls me!" Alicia giggled at his confused look. "You can use it, I don't care."

He merely blinked. Massie bet he wasn't expecting his comeback to be taken that way, but Alicia hardly cared what nicknames she got… unless they were "slut" or "whore," of course. "I definitely should've seen that coming," he muttered, "but if you're looking for Kristen, she's with Cam over there." He waved his hand towards the farthest end of the field where, if she squinted, Massie could slightly make out two bodies. "Is Dylan in the bathroom or something?"

Chris coughed. Yet again, another awkward silence consumed them.

Massie rubbed at her face with her palm, fighting the urge to let loose a heavy sigh. This wasn't going to be fun. Just as she was about to open her mouth to respond, Josh's voice cut through the quiet air: "She decided not to come."

"Is everything okay? She's feeling fine, right?"

"She's great. Perfect, even," Alicia snapped, an uncharacteristic move given the position she was in, head ducked, face hidden, looking for comfort. "_Peachy keen_."

Derrick frowned. "How long have we been here, Josh? Did we step into some kind of time warp and miss three years of our life?"

"We've been here since three and no one looks any different, so I'd say you're safe," Josh responded with an eye roll. He could tell something was off and the melodramatics were not making anything better.

"Then what the hell is going on?" demanded Derrick, sweeping his hair out of his eyes, blond curls already sticky with sweat. "I didn't even know Alicia and Plovert were _fri_—"

"—do you wanna come get hot chocolate with me?" Massie blurted, raising her voice to drown out Derrick's offensive inquiries. He got rather snappy when he was out of the loop and she was not about to have him accidentally hurt Alicia's feelings more. And by the way Chris' grip on Alicia's arm tightened, she knew he wouldn't either. It was best to get the goalie out of the picture before he made things worse.

"I want to know what's going _on_," Derrick answered, but still jumped over the fence separating them. She let him lead the way as soon as his cleats hit the ground.

She heard Josh say he'd go get Kristen—the main reason Alicia was even over there was to wish their friend luck—and Massie desperately hoped she'd be able to pull it together as not to worry the blond. That was the last thing she needed the night of the championship game. To know her friends were experiencing a rift without her? She'd think of nothing else. She'd try to fix it as she ran up and down the field; she'd miss every pass, maybe even try to help the other team score. No.

Derrick sighed loudly. "Okay, are you going to tell me what's up or do I have to guess?"

"What?" Massie hardly heard him.

"It's not like you to be so quiet and for Alicia to need someone to hold her up and for Chris to… are he and Alicia even friends? I'm so confused."

"I feel useless," the brunette muttered, scratching the skin under her ear. All of these emotions were gnawing at her—anger, despondence, and even more she couldn't name—but all she wanted to do was pull his face close to hers and kiss him senseless… which was totally appropriate. Her social life was just falling apart at the seams and all she wanted to do was make out with a boy. Cool. Great.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're in no way useless," Derrick argued softly, "what makes you say that?"

She shrugged, hating the way his voice sounded when he cared. Couldn't he be another stupid teenage boy that didn't want to be bothered with girls and their petty issues? He'd be less appealing if he were. "Alicia told us."

"About Danny?"

"Yeah. I mean, well, she didn't really _tell_ us," Massie pulled at her ponytail, setting her gaze on the stands, which were filling up pretty fast. She'd never known these things were such a big deal. "She tried."

Derrick licked his lips. "So—she doesn't know you know?"

"Do you want to know why Dylan's not here?" Massie looked at him, using his nod as confirmation. "She told us."

"She told you and Alicia about Alicia sleeping with Danny Robbins?" Derrick blanched. "Wouldn't Alicia know that already?"

Massie tried to ignore the irritation that was building inside her. She knew she wasn't explaining the situation eloquently, but did he have to sound so stupid? There was this blank expression on his face, like he couldn't comprehend anything she was trying to say.

"The rumors," she tried. "Dylan heard the rumors… apparently she waited for Leesh to talk about it and when she didn't… she started to believe them."

"You're kidding me."

"No." Massie watched him fiddle with the chain around his neck. "She called her out on being a slut, finally told us how she really felt about the things we've been doing with you guys and… and she just left. Said something about not belonging and was out the door…" She swallowed, trying to avoid the heat of his gaze on her face. "Everything's falling apart, Derrick, and I can't put the pieces back together. I don't even know where they _fell_."

"Maybe… maybe you're not supposed to," he suggested, clearing his throat. "You can't fix everything, Mass. You know that."

She bit down hard on her bottom lip. "So I'm supposed to stand back and let everything go to shit?" His arm brushed against hers as they came to a stop—why was the line for drinks so long? All she wanted was hot chocolate—and she stepped to the side ever so slightly, hoping he didn't notice her discomfort. Her closeness to him wasn't making things any better. "I can't just let Dylan walk away," she continued to speak, or babble, really, since she had no game plan at all, "she's been one of my best friends since elementary school. She…"

"She's," Derrick interrupted, resting his palms on her shoulders, trying in vain to get her to look at him, "making her own decisions. You can't keep them on a leash forever, Mass; they're not dogs."

"She can't just go!" she let herself shriek, for once not caring about the scene she could be making. Everyone she could possibly know was at this game—this game she didn't understand even when her eyes were glued to the players, watching their every movement—and she couldn't bring herself to care whether or not they saw her fall apart. She was not perfect, she was not magnificent. There was nothing special about her; her mother and father were just like every Westchester stereotype and she was merely a spoiled rich girl who never heard the word "no" in her entire life. Not until this year, when everything, no matter how hard she gripped it, fell through like grains of sand in her hands. She was just like everyone else. "That's the second one in _three months_, the second one that didn't have anything to hold on to, didn't have any reason to stay—and I'm supposed to just let it happen?"

"Massie—"

"Do you know what she said to me?" The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, skin breaking beneath her teeth. "That Alicia's always been my favorite, that _of course_ I'd defend her." Massie coughed, choked, really, on a bitter laugh, wrinkling her nose, biting down harder on her lip, trying to get something else to hurt, hurt, _hurt_. "Does she really think that I'd rather be with Alicia than her, than Kristen? They're all my best friends, we've been through hell and back together, and I'd do anything for them, and here she is, telling me that I'm just holding on to the rest of them to have a perfect group—well, she didn't really say that, but I know she was thinking it; hell, it's what_ everyone_ is thinking. I know I haven't been a nice person to them. I know I've treated them like shit for the past, like, eight years, but they're all I've ever had. We all split up into twosomes and does she see me getting mad at her for being super close with Kristen? No. I don't care about that. I just care that we're happy and together and they… and she… they don't _get it_. I'm not—I'm trying, Derrick, I'm trying."

The next second she was enveloped in a hug, her body pressed tightly against his, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. She buried her face in his chest, her entire world becoming his very scent, a mixture of sweat, boy, and the vaguest hint of spicy cologne. His chin rested on the top of her head, fingers slipping underneath her vest to rub circles on her back.

"I'm losing everyone," she mumbled, trying not to melt into his embrace.

"Don't be silly." He was soft and gentle, just loud enough to be heard above the hum of the numerous conversations around them. "You're not losing anyone."

Massie shook her head. "I lost Claire, I lost Dylan… it won't be long before the others start to realize I'm not worth it either."

"I think you're worth it." With his lips so close to her ear, the sound of his low, husky voice sent shivers up her spine.

"Derrick…" She took a deep breath, an internal struggle plaguing her mind. "Derrick… don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say things you don't mean."

"How can you say I don't mean it?" Derrick questioned, pulling away from her, gripping her arms. "You don't know how I feel."

Massie licked her lips, keeping her gaze set on the ground. "I know you decided I wasn't worth it when you broke up with me. I know that. And that's enough."

"Massie, that… that was a mistake. You don't know how I- I was _scared_ and—"

"Please, Derrick, _please_, I don't want to open up old wounds, so please don't talk about it. Don't bring it up. Just leave it."

"Leave it? I've been leaving it for _months_. I should have never broken up with you and if you'd just let me _explain_, I'd be able to tell you why I—"

Massie shook her head violently, squeezing the sleeves of her shirt with white-knuckled fists. No matter how conflicted she had felt all year long, no matter the effect he had on her, she didn't want to talk about the past. Once upon a time, she wanted to know; she had tried to analyze everything she did, all the things she said wrong… but now, she didn't. She couldn't. He could have all the excuses in the world and she didn't want to hear a single one.

"Um." She looked out at the field, at the bleachers, at the crowds of people swarming in to watch what was starting to be called the 'game of the year' or so the writers of the school newspapers were predicting. "Are—are you nervous for all of this?"

"Massie…"

"Derrick,_ no_."

He breathed noisily through his nose, running a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck in the process. "I…" It was obvious he didn't want this, that their roles were reversed in the matter, but she didn't want to talk feelings or past relationships. She couldn't. "I… yeah, I guess. A little."

She felt her shoulders drop a little, happy with his admission. He was humoring her, yes; the very look in his eye, the lack of mischievous twinkle proved to her he was more than a little peeved at her. "Aren't you guys prepared for this?" she asked despite it all.

"Yeah, but I still have a bad feeling about tonight. Like something's going to go wrong."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. You guys are good."

Derrick shrugged, clearing his throat. "The game has been postponed for literally weeks… I wouldn't be surprised if everything blew up in our faces."

"You'll be _fine_," Massie insisted, pressing the tips of her toes into the ground in order to be at a similar height as him. Her lips pressed against his cheek and she felt him stiffen. She let them stay there a little longer, ignoring the tension filling the air between them. All would be forgotten soon, swept away in the coming exhilaration and excitement. "Let's get my hot chocolate before we miss the entire game."

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The tension in the locker room was thick enough to be cut with a knife; the soccer players muddled around the wooden benches and metal lockers, not talking, not looking, just standing, as if they were ready to face a fate worse than death.

It was the championship—the big game, the one they were threatened with since day one—and despite their talent and the obvious reason as to why they were there, a seed of doubt had planted its roots into their minds. Were they good? Yes. Were they good _enough_? That was all to be determined.

And it didn't help that Coach Harrington was yelling at the top of his lungs.

It wasn't like they weren't used to it. All the man did was listen to his voice echo throughout a room, but it wasn't exactly raising their morale.

"_I expect a well-played game tonight, ladies!_" he roared, face reddening. Angry spit fell on the unfortunate boys sitting in the rows before him, no doubt eager freshmen willing to listen to his every word. "Practice was piss-poor tonight; I don't want any half-assed attempts out there!"

Kemp cradled his head in his palms. "When will he realize half his team is hungover?"

"Let's hope _never_," Cam hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "he'll have us running suicides until we _die_."

"I want _silence_ back there!" the coach snarled, glaring at his son and his friends. "Do you not understand how significant this game is? Because I don't think you do. There are important people out there." His gaze sent chills down Derrick's spine when their eyes met and he swallowed, knowing one wrong move on his part could have them losers rather than winners; and if that happened… He shook his head. _No_. "You better believe there will be irreversible consequences _for all of you_ if we come out of this game anything less than winners. I'm watching each and every one of you out there tonight- if I don't think you played your best, you will not be considered for the team next year. I hope that gets your head out of your asses."

A shocked murmur ran through the locker room; even Danny Robbins, resident conceited asshole, looked worried. Never once had they been threatened with expulsion from the team. Half of them had only been around to see Plovert get kicked off and that hadn't even scared them. But it was one screw up that could have them terminated- one wrong kick, one wrong move…

"If Jeffries and Harper have anything inspiring to say, now would be the time," James Harrington announced, "Derrick, I'd like to talk to you. _Now_."

The youngest Harrington stood, stretching his arms over his head as the two co-captains started their usual pre-game spiel. It slightly reminded him of something that would occur in a teen drama or some other movie he had seen where people needed to get their adrenaline pumping, reminding him that Kemp had once suggested the duo literally took lines from those types of films.

He weaved in and out of the other players, hardly sparing them any attention. In a game all about teamwork, it was times like this that he cared only for himself. He had to trust the guys defending him, but other than that, it was all about what _he_ could do. No one else guarded the goal the same way he did. Unfortunately, his focus on himself at this point wasn't regarding the game at all- he didn't have the time to look at the others on his team, not when they were the ones who got yelled at for a brief period during practice and he was the one who went through the verbal (and, if he were being honest, physical) abuse he did. And he knew, walking from this room to the coach's office, that was what he was headed towards.

Derrick didn't bother knocking on the door, gripping the knob and pushing it open. His father was standing with his back towards him, looking out the window. People were piling in still. It was a sea of navy and burgundy, of black and green.

"I don't want a single ball to get into that net tonight."

"Yes, sir," Derrick replied obediently, balancing on the balls of his feet.

"I want more than a _yes, sir_ from you, Derrick." The man spun around to face him. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I do know you came back at an unreasonable hour last night. You should've gotten more sleep than you have under your belt right now and I'm not about to let that ruin our chances of winning this game." His eyes narrowed, features shadowed by the darkness of the room. Although it was hard to see his entire face, Derrick's heart still skipped a beat- there was something menacing about his father, something he could never put his finger on. "And don't think I didn't see you with that girl earlier…"

Derrick shook his head. "Dad, that's nothing."

"Do not interrupt me when I'm speaking to you. How many times do I have to make that clear? When _I'm _talking, _you're_ quiet. Understood?"

All Derrick could do was nod.

"You can say it's nothing all you want, but I don't want whatever mind games she's playing with you to hinder your game. Forget about her. Forget her hair or her eyes or her smile or whatever it is that you're attracted to. I don't give a shit if she's putting out, forget about how she looks naked and-"

"- Dad, shut up."

James Harrington's jaw dropped, a crease forming in between his eyebrows. Derrick refrained from showing any fear, but took a step back regardless. "_What_ did you just say to me?"

"I-I-I'm sorry," Derrick stammered, wishing the look on his face would disappear at his words. (He knew it wouldn't.) "I didn't- just don't talk about her like that. It's nothing. There's nothing going on, so there's no reason for you to say any of that stuff, and I'll play well, I promise."

His father wasn't impressed. It seemed that the look on his face only deepened, the scowl permanently altering his lips. "It's nothing and yet you told me to _shut up_? I don't like your attitude tonight, Derrick. In fact, I haven't liked your attitude for the past month. Your mother told me to let it be, but you know what? Maybe I should bench you."

"You can't do that."

"I can't?" His father's face was millimeters away from his; he could practically feel his hot breath on his cheek. "Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do, Derrick? You're fifteen years old. If I want to bench you, I can bench you."

"You'd really put our team in jeopardy because you're pissed at me?" his son spat back, blood boiling. Hatred churned in his stomach, the bruises on his skin searing as if he were being touched once more. "Do you think Denison can handle this? I sure as hell can't- he can hardly handle _practice_. Dad, you can't honestly put him in this game!"

"I'm the coach here, Derrick," he hissed, stepping forward. With each step he took, Derrick went backwards until his back was pressed against the wall. There was nowhere to move. There was no one else there but the two of them. "I make the decisions here. You've got to get something through your head. All of you have to understand that you're not as talented as you think you are. I've seen talent. I've experienced talent. You're just better than normal, a _high school team_. And I can change whatever I want. You're replaceable, Derrick. You all are."

Derrick frowned, staring directly at his father until the older man looked away. "Am I here so you can make a point or what? I believe we have a game to play in ten minutes."

His father shoved him roughly, the back of Derrick's head boomeranging against the wall he was practically glued to. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pulsing pain. He'd had worse.

"I don't appreciate being looked down upon, _son_." The word was practically dripping with malice.

"I don't appreciate being belittled," Derrick shot back- and he should've seen it coming.

There was nothing James Harrington hated more than losing, but the second on that list was probably Derrick. Out of the three of his children, his youngest always managed to push his buttons and treat him exactly the way he treated him. Sammi was a perfect Daddy's girl when she had to be and Patrick would be nowhere without the man. Derrick, on the other hand, had seen the way James treated his mother, was there when she was crying and bleeding, and had a newfound appreciation for the frozen vegetables in the freezer.

So it wasn't that much of a shock when his fist met his cheek- it would never be the nose, never ever- stinging as his face swung to the side. There was nowhere for him to move this time, nowhere to duck, nothing to defend himself with. James Harrington had the upper hand and for once, Derrick didn't care.

He hated him so much. So much that it hurt.

The game started in ten minutes, maybe a little less, but that didn't stop him from kneeing his father in the gut, retaliating for all the times he- and his mother- got used as punching bags when things went wrong.

The air left James as soon as he was hit, causing him to back up slightly, giving Derrick the opportunity to slip out of the tight hold. He was about to get out of there, go back to all the people, when he felt a hand grab the neck of his jersey, pulling him back into the room. A deep voice hissed into his ear, "Don't you dare think you can do that to me."

"But you can do it to me?" he countered, trying to loosen the grip on his shirt. "You can do it to mom?"

He shouldn't have expected something other than the "yes" that escaped his father's mouth, but the words crawled beneath his skin, bruising him more than a physical hit could ever. He was allowed to be used and abused and that was perfectly fine with him. He could care less about himself, but his mother? There was no fucking way she was to feel like that. The mere fact that his father thought that way about _her_ was enough to make Derrick want to start kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs.

Candace was perfect. She was the only person consistently on his team, making sure he was okay, feeding him, loving him. She deserved more than this shitty excuse of a man as a husband, but she just couldn't get away from him. He didn't know if she tried or not, but it seemed that every time she wanted to do something nice for herself, James was there to crush all of her dreams. Quite frankly, Derrick's had enough of it.

If his face got bashed in, so be it.

"Let go of me," he ordered, pulling his body weight forward with every step. James held on. "I _said_ let go of me."

"I'll let go of you when I want to, not when you tell me to." James tightened his hold, keeping his son in place. "I'm you're superior, Derrick. You listen to me when I speak and you respect me."

"I can't respect someone like you," Derrick retorted, setting his jaw in place. His heart hammered in his chest and he was pretty sure the other guys were starting to get worried about them. Not that they knew much about what went on behind closed doors, but still- the game was about to start and their goalie and coach were nowhere in sight. "Let go of me."

James pulled him closer, snarling as he did so. "Your brother would listen to me. He'd follow my every instruction. He'd rob a bank if I asked him to. Why can't you take a lesson from his book?"

"Because," Derrick surged forward, almost barreling into the door, but managing to get his father to lose his grip, "I'm not pathetic." He steadied himself against the wall, turning his head back to glare once more at the man, almost daring him to get any closer.

"I'm benching you." James' voice was nothing but a whisper, a deep, dark, horrifying whisper.

This would've been anyone's worst nightmare. After playing all season, he wasn't allowed to participate in the final game? But all Derrick did was let a satisfied smirk play on his lips. "Go ahead." He slammed the door wide open, letting it hit the cabinet on the other side. Before he could think twice, he wished him a sarcastic good luck, storming into the locker room.

The chatter- more excited than it was anxious- halted when he appeared, all eyes on him. He briefly wondered if his cheek was bruising or if there were any other signs of a quarrel written across his face, but all thoughts vanished as soon as they came. He pushed past 27 and 41, tugging his workout bag from underneath Cam's feet, and threw it over his shoulder.

Ignoring his friends' bewildered looks, Derrick stopped right in front of Brian Denison, a scrawny-looking kid with a head of unmanageable dark curls, patted him on the shoulder and said, "Have fun out there, kiddo."

He was gone before anyone else could get a word in edgewise.

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.

**derrick harrington [7:59]**: where are you guys sitting  
><strong>chris plovert [7:59]<strong>: right by briarwood's goal why  
><strong>derrick harrington [8:00]<strong>: meet me by the restroom please  
><strong>chris plovert [8:00]<strong>: yeah sure

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.

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"I-"

"-what just happened-"

"-did he just _walk out_-"

"-does Denison even know how to catch a ball-"

"-shut the fuck up, Danny, kid looks like he's gonna shit himself-"

"-where does he think he's going-"

"-should someone go get him-"

Coach Harrington appeared in the doorway, a sour expression on his face. "No," he spoke evenly, voice raising above the chaos in the room. The buzz stopped immediately, all eyes falling upon the man. "Derrick won't be playing tonight."

"_You're benching your own son?_" the boy beside Danny, one that was always hanging around him but no one ever bothered to get to know, demanded. "Is that even legal?"

"I can bench whoever I want to bench, Rogers," their coach snapped, "so watch it or you'll be next."

That shut him up immediately.

One of the assistant coaches, Dave as he liked to be referred to, was shoved to the front of the pack, almost as if he had picked the short stick. Even the people working for him seemed to fear James Harrington. Knowing him, he liked it. Clearing his throat, Dave spoke. "Do we need to change anything, coach?"

Derrick's father looked over at Josh, Kemp, and Cam, and the three could only remain silent as he did so, before he shook his head. "I assume Denison knows what he's about to get himself into."

"Um," the boy coughed, "is now the best time to run?"

Coach Harrington cracked a smile, one so fake it was alarming he didn't even try to hide it. "Funny." Spinning on his heel, he swiftly exited, all the while muttering to himself about how amusing this new kid was. No one tried to tell him Brian Denison had been Derrick's back-up for the past year and a half.

With their head coach gone, the entire team turned to the team of assistants, who looked just as confused as they felt. Never had the thought of benching Derrick Harrington cross their minds; it was absolutely absurd. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was the coach's son, but solely on his ability to catch anything that headed his way. In the two years that he'd been on the team, there was a record total of three times the ball managed to slip into the net. Each time he'd been sick.

What were they supposed to do now? There was no way they could prep Brian Denison to be as good as the other boy. There wasn't enough time. Everyone knew Harrington would let him crash and burn before lifting a finger to help him strategize. He expected everyone to be on the same page, even the ones who hardly got any playing time, and he expected a win.

Dave, yet again, stepped forward, this time with a little more ease. "New game plan: Do _not_ let that ball get anywhere near our net. Knock 'em over, flip in the air- make sure Denison never has to lift a finger. Guard him like you're guarding your own life."

"Score once, twice," another one said. He went by Lester, a plump man who looked as friendly as Santa Clause, but when it came down to it, could holler like it was nobody's business. "Keep the game in your favor and run out the clock. You can beat Hotchkiss. You've done it before."

"They play dirty," Josh reminded them, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "I played on that team for only one season and I'm pretty sure they broke a few arms out there."

Denison sighed loudly, slamming back into the row of lockers behind him. "_Great_."

"Don't worry, kid." Danny grinned at him. "We know how to play dirty, too."

"You're supposed to play a nice, _clean_ game," Lester warned. "Just follow our guidelines and you should be fine."

Danny's friend rolled his eyes as he stood. "There's no point in trying to be clean when they're not. We'll see where this game takes us."

"You're not the captain, Rogers," Mike Jefferies shouted from the front of the room. "_I'll _see where this game takes us. If I tell you to ignore them, you ignore them."

"We really need new management around here," Danny muttered.

Dave clapped his hands twice. "Alright, boys, let's get out there! You'll be great! Don't worry about a thing!" He was hard to believe what with the worry plaguing his eye and the grimace stretching across his face. Yep, they had as good a chance as any.

"Maybe their entire team will drop dead," Kemp mused, trying to stay as lighthearted as possible.

"Sounds solid," came Cam's monotone.

Kemp ignored him, however, and shot out of his seat, ignoring the impending doom on the team. It would only set in stone when they were losing drastically and every player was on the bench with various ailments. Until then, he would be their biggest cheerleader and, boy, did they need it. "Alright, everybody, let's go! Wildcats, getcha head in the game!"

Josh blinked. "Aren't we the Tomahawks?"

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**Fight on the field leads to Briarwood's disqualification  
><strong>by, Cookie Elson, _Contributor _

The weather looked promising as almost all of Westchester donned their warmest navy and burgundy, headed towards the stadium where the championship game was being held Saturday night. Between two rival teams, this was the most talked about game of the season; the first basketball game the previous night hadn't seen this much coverage.

Hotchkiss and Briarwood have always been evenly matched in talent. We could only cross our fingers and hope for the best when they played against each other and that should've been the case when the lights went up and the soccer ball was deposited on the field… but unfortunately, that's not what we'll be remembering come Monday morning.

Changes were made to the Tomahawks earlier in the year with an addition of Kristen Gregory to take the place of Christopher Plovert after he had been asked to hand in his jersey. While Gregory had a past in the sport and was one of the most talked about players on the OCD Sirens, it was always touch and go with her—would she score? Could she blend well? It was all anyone could talk about. Numerous phone calls had gone to the school board, worried parents concerned about the girl's safety and well-being on a boys' soccer team. She proved everyone wrong in each and every game she played in; her talent was needed on this team without Plovert. She could definitely play with the big boys.

It seemed, though, that the players of Hotchkiss Academy agreed to disagree. Teaming up on the girl all night, they threw her to the ground, sandwiched her in between them, and managed to do everything in their power to make her lose control of the ball. An insider confidentially told us that they even went as far as to tell the Tomahawks to "put their slut back in the kitchen where she belonged." And that was the last straw for Kemp Hurley. The boy, known for his temper and hard exterior, was never one to jeopardize his team, but as he was pulled off of a Hotchkiss midfielder, kicking and screaming, it was obvious he had enough.

What should have been a friendly competition turned into that of a bloody war. Players were escorted off the field with split lips, bloody noses, and black eyes. Someone had even gone as far as to use biting as a defense and the game had gone to Hotchkiss...

**[turn to p. 14A for more]**


	38. thirty seven

gonna be honest, this isn't what i originally wanted when i wrote this out, and it's much shorter than i like, but i felt like that was a good place to stop.

i'm also not really sure where or how to end this story and since we're so many chapters in, i might make this the Part One and start another, making that Part Two. i don't know yet, so don't hold me to it!

* * *

><p>Dylan's hands clutched the hot coffee cup, emerald eyes captivated by the swirling steam escaping the lid. The inside of Starbucks bustled with activity – it seemed like there were less people interested in the "Game of the Year" than she originally thought – and when she was not paying attention to her untouched drink, she watched the workers and the customers, ordering and making, ordering and making, ordering and making. She recognized a few of them. The girl she used to talk to in Vincent's art class back at OCD when she took pottery glanced at her quizzically, not even offering a smile, most likely confused as to why she was alone. Dylan got that look a lot.<p>

The strong aroma of coffee knotted up her stomach instead of soothing her like it should have. She couldn't bring herself to take even the smallest of sips of her venti white mocha, waves of nausea flooding over her. Why was she here again? She forgot easily.

"_Yeah? Would you like to tell me how I'm self-destructing? Last time I checked, I was doing nothing—"_

"_Nothing but sleeping with every guy willing to pull his pants down!"_

Oh. That's right.

It was a horrible thing to say to one of her best friends, but she couldn't find it in herself to take it back. Even if she did, even if she regretted everything that came out of her mouth, there was no way Alicia would listen. There was no guarantee Massie would have her back. Chris Plovert would probably punch her in the face, even if she was just a girl. And the sad thing was, she wanted a part of her to regret it, but the apologies dissolved like sugar on the tip of her tongue, and she was making no move to contact her friends.

She couldn't be sorry. She didn't know how to be sorry.

Maybe it was because their friendship was disintegrating, falling apart all around them while they watched on pathetically, unable to stitch it back together. Maybe it was because she was never taught how to show remorse, succumbing to the prissy, snotty life of a celebrity kid. Maybe it was because she didn't want to. There was nothing to say, nothing to do, that would make any of this clearer. Briarwood had torn them apart, made them rely on people they shouldn't have, and somewhere along the line, they forgot about each other. There was no other way to explain why Dylan was always out of the loop.

"_Yeah, well, word on the street is that you're nothing but a pathetic, whiny beggar."_

Perhaps she didn't speak her mind correctly. That much could be said, but there wasn't a proper way to bring up something a person didn't want to speak about. No matter how hard Alicia pretended it didn't exist and Massie ignored it, it was still there. People still talked. They gossiped, they pointed fingers, they whispered rude things. How was Dylan to know these things were true or not? When they were the Pretty Committee, which they weren't anymore, rumors flew about them – who they were seeing, why they weren't seeing so and so, where their clothes came from, even their sexual orientations – and they ignored the ones that held some semblance of the truth and stomped out the ones that were bizarre. Maybe Dylan didn't get the memo, but it should've been the same when they switched schools.

Honestly, she didn't care that Alicia slept with Danny Robbins. It was the girl's own fault, really, for screwing her life up the way she did. It was not being told that bothered her the most. All they had to do was _tell_ her and this wouldn't have happened, but somehow they met together, the unlikeliest of people, and they talked. They plotted, they planned, they tried to fix something they weren't supposed to know about.

But in what fucked up world did Josh Hotz come before her? Derrick Harrington? _Chris Plovert?_ For all she knew, Kemp Hurley and Cam Fisher were also in on it, holding Alicia's hand, taking careful steps to shield her from the harshness of the world. Five boys broke the Pretty Committee and those five boys were back again, trying to piece together something _they_ ruined. Did that make sense? No. Dylan wouldn't stand for it, even if it meant walking away.

She brought the cup to her lips, face warmed by the steam, and took a large gulp. The liquid burned on its way down. The only thing she wasn't prepared for was the loneliness. It was odd how it could creep up on you the way it does.

It was also odd the way her tongue felt, like it could fall off at any moment. It was blistering and rough when it touched the roof of her mouth, and Dylan was so busy thinking about it she failed to notice the chair pull up beside her until the occupant was clearing their throat.

She turned and wished she hadn't. Focusing on her hot mouth and thinking about the things she said earlier was better than speaking to Skye Hamilton. Anything was better.

"All by your lonesome?"

Dylan stared at her. "Obviously," she ended up drawling, because really? It didn't look like anyone else was sitting with her nor was there any sort of inclination that someone would arrive. Dylan's been there for twenty minutes. Alone.

"No need for the hostility, Dylan." Skye smiled, but that only made the need for hostility ten times greater. "I'm here as a friend."

"Are you now?" the redhead questioned blandly, pressing her finger to the lip gloss stain on her cup. "Are _you_ all by your lonesome?"

"Maybe, but I'm not here to talk about that." Skye gripped her own drink, her fingers the same shade of blue as her eyes. Pathetic. "You're not at the game with your friends. Why is that?"

"I don't particularly like soccer, if you have to know."

Dylan eyed the girl uncomfortably. Skye Hamilton didn't appear casually. She always had an agenda and as much as Dylan didn't want to be on it, she was mildly curious. She was never once deemed important enough by the junior seeing as Massie and Alicia were always her go-to victims. Things could change, she guessed; she had picked _Claire_ of all people to befriend.

(Sometimes, even Claire was more interesting than Dylan was.)

Skye sipped at her iced coffee – it had to be about twenty degrees outside – as she mulled it all over. What was there to mull over? Nothing, of course. Dylan had said about ten words, and they were the truth. Soccer was not her thing. It was Kristen's. It was Massie and Alicia's when their boys were around. Dylan could care less.

"For someone who doesn't like soccer, you sure do seem all dolled up in school spirit." At that point, Skye looked like she had finally reached the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow… but what was she trying to accomplish?

Dylan gritted her teeth. "I was going to go, but then I changed my mind. That's allowed, you know. It's not a crime."

A ghost of a smile crept up on Skye's lips. "Would you like to be friends, Dylan Marvil?"

"No." It was the easiest thing she had said all day.

It didn't matter if Alicia and Massie refused to talk to her. It didn't matter if Chris Plovert was involved with them at all. It didn't matter that somehow Josh and Derrick took over the place in their hearts that was dedicated to her. Skye Hamilton was not to be trusted, was not to be a friend, and that would never change, even if they did.

Somehow that made her heart hurt.

But the girl was not going down without a fight. "I think you do." Dylan could have shot out a reply, but she kept going, her voice evolving into that of a soft purr. "I think we're going to be seeing a lot of you, Dylan, because a world without friends is a very lonely one indeed. I'm sure you're starting to figure that one out all on your own."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dylan spat out, shoving her coffee aside. She wasn't thirsty anymore. She never was, actually.

Skye had a heart-shaped face, one that was so beautiful it hurt to look at. Her eyes were a blue that was hard to make manually, her cheekbones were prominent, and her nose was a tiny ski slope. She would be pretty if she wasn't so rude, if the words she was speaking weren't slimy. "You can't handle being alone, Dyl" – and she hated the way the nickname sounded from her mouth – "I know this. You know this. Everyone knows this. You're dependent on people who threw you aside. On your sisters, who will leave when the month is over. On your mother, who isn't actually there for you. They always say you shouldn't make a person your home."

Dylan didn't quite get it. Her brows furrowed automatically, lips poised to speak up, but Skye was rising, leaving her half-full cup on the corner of the table. She looked down at Dylan as if the girl wasn't about to question everything and patted her head. "You have my number, Dylan. You should use it more often."

The bell rang as the door opened and Skye was gone, leaving behind caffeine and a floral perfume. Dylan would much rather deal with the coffee smell again.

.

.

.

It seemed as if Kemp had a pocket full of creative curses, words strung together that shouldn't have made any sense, but they did, they really did. In fact, he taught the three girls packed into Massie's living room a variety of new phrases, ones that Cam and Josh really tried to get them to never use after this night. They weren't planning on it.

Every time Kemp's phone went off, another insult would come tumbling from his lips as if he knew exactly what was going to be on the screen. Sometimes, he would ignore them, allowing Alicia to press a paper towel full of ice to his swelling eye, other times he would respond, glowering and seething, the ice momentarily taken away from his face.

"This is shit," he finally said, tossing his phone back on the rug. "Complete and utter bullshit."

"If you could sit still for more than five seconds, maybe the situation could lighten up a bit," Alicia muttered, slapping at his hand when it lifted to his eye.

"No, not that," he dismissed her vaguely, sitting up so fast the makeshift ice pack fell. Kemp hastily put it back together, floor a bit wet, and put it back where it was before, either ignoring or not noticing the disheartened look that crossed Alicia's face.

Chris scooted forward, intertwining their fingers so she would stop wringing her own together. "What are you talking about then?"

"This." He cleared his throat, phone back in his possession – it was like he couldn't be without it for longer than three minutes. "Not only have I been getting really sweet texts from our fellow teammates, but some of the losers we go to school with are threatening me, like, _hello_, I don't care who you are, you probably aren't going to punch me in the face. But this one… this one really takes the cake. I love this so much I might try to find a way to print it out and frame it above my bed." The bitter sarcasm in his voice spread through the room like a gas, filling everyone up with a tension they couldn't escape. "It's from Ridder and it says, _hey Kemp, just wanted to let you know what a smashing job _– first of all, let me stop there. Smashing. He said the word smashing. What does he think this is? We're not sophisticated and we're definitely not British, so that wasn't necessary in the slightest. He's such a –"

Cam sighed pointedly. "Get on with it, will you?"

"Just because we're not British doesn't mean we can't use the word smashing…" Josh added, a furrow in his brow.

"Whatever." Kemp scrolled down on his phone. "_Hey Kemp, just wanted to let you know what a smashing job you did out there. You and the rest of the soccer team were just great, thank god we won! I hope this will teach you that soccer literally _sucks_ and lacrosse is better, since I'm pretty sure we've never gotten into a tussle with the other team over a little comment they made about one of their players. You should've seen that coming, but you and your little friends are too delusional to think anything badly about anyone in this world. Sheltered. So, so terribly sheltered. Anyway, here's a little video I wanted to show you. It's almost to a million views!_"

A deep frown etched its way onto Kemp's face when he pressed his thumb to the link and suddenly the room was full of cheers, jeers, and whistles. It was hard to hear anything – the feedback was awful – but the overall gist was there. His face paled with every passing second until he was forced to stop it, instead focusing on reading.

"Is it what I think it is?" Kristen asked, wrapping gauze around her elbow. The white material reddened as soon as it made contact with her skin.

"It's called Kemp Hurley Loses It." There's no mistaking the drop in the boy's voice, the way he sounded and looked so disappointed in himself. "It…" He swallowed, rubbing his forehead roughly, his ice pack abandoned, melting by his side. "It was just a game. It was just a game."

"To you it was," Derrick murmured, pulling at the hem of his shirt, twisting the strands around his finger until it throbbed and turned red.

Kemp looked over at him, knitting his eyebrows together. His lips would've been in a tight line if he hadn't had anything to say. "Coming from the one who ditched."

"Let's not start that again," Josh cut in swiftly, but Derrick acted as if he hadn't heard Kemp speak in the first place, twisting twisting twisting.

Massie averted her gaze from the blond boy, her fingers busying trying to get the dirt and gravel out of Cam's knee. The Hotchkiss players, two of them, had slammed him into the ground the moment the first punch was thrown and the quick contact was enough to break skin. They did other things, too, because Cam's lips were still a bit bloody and his nose was a little wonky, but Massie was drifting, her mind consumed with everything but injuries.

It had been 8:05 when Chris returned with Derrick in tow. The game had started a few minutes, or maybe it was seconds, before that, and it was already big news that Brian Denison was taking _the coach's son's _place in the net. The announcer kept enunciating, emphasizing, shouting the words like no one could understand the severity of the situation. But they did. Of course they did. Those around them kept glaring at the boy who should've been down on the field but was up in the stands and it made Massie's skin crawl.

He hadn't said anything at all, not even a small "hello", hardly reacting to Alicia's hand on his shoulder or on his forehead when he started to lose color in his cheeks. He just sat there, sandwiched between the two girls, workout bag at his feet, staring at the ground. His fingers had consumed themselves with the task of playing with the frayed ends of his shirt – a regular shirt, not his uniform, and when he was questioned as to where it was Chris was the one who told them he had shoved it angrily in the trashcan by the boy's bathroom.

Derrick hadn't spoken once. He was tense and uncomfortable. His eyes looked pained and sometimes his hands shook, but no one mentioned it. Massie, Alicia, and Chris stayed fixated on a game they didn't want to be at.

It was when the referees were trying to calm everyone down right after Kemp's swing at the burly Hotchkiss guy that he finally looked up, catching the score. It was pitiful, really, the way Briarwood was getting their ass kicked, but he didn't seem to care about that. What he worried most about was the time and it was like he knew what was going to happen before it happened, and he was shooting up, and telling them to go go _go_.

He even went as far as to let Kemp yell at him the moment the rest of the team stepped foot in Massie's house.

She wanted to know so badly what was wrong. She wanted to fix it, apply ointment and bandages like she already was, but she knew there was no sort of medication for this type of problem. Derrick wasn't talking much, little comments here or there about whatever was going on around him, but there was a part of her that held the answer to her unspoken question. His father. His father was the only one who could make him this unresponsive, turning the normally confident, outgoing boy into a shell, a small, scared shell of his former self.

And here she was picking small rocks and blades of grass out of Cam's kneecap instead of fussing over him. But this made more sense, right? She and Cam… they were an item, or they used to be, because, really, they hadn't talked in quite a while. And she may or may not have completely broken whatever it was they had by letting someone other than Cam touch her in the most intimate of places. No one knew of that and she wanted to keep it that way, at least for now, so she would worry over this boy instead of the other one, even though her mind was so far, far away—

"Mass, I think it's clean."

Cam's whisper brought her back and she bit her lip in something akin to embarrassment. She blinked, bringing herself back to the present, only to realize she had been picking and picking and picking away at his skin; she wondered if she made it bleed any more than it already was. She was sorry if she did.

"Right." She smiled weakly, pulling back slowly, fingertips stained red. "Let's get it wrapped up then."

She went to grab the bandages she had found underneath her skin, but collided with Cam's warm hands instead. "I don't know what's up with you guys tonight," he spoke easily, "but I'm pretty sure I can put one of these things on my knee. Go to talk to Derrick. I know you want to."

Massie shook her head. "I can do it. It's fine."

"I can take care of myself," Cam urged, pushing her persistent arms away. "_Go_."

"It's not like he's going to tell me anything," she protested, trying to get to the first aid kit. He blocked it again. "He'll probably talk to you more than me."

Cam shook his head. "I highly doubt that. You'll get more out of him than I ever will." There was something in the way he said it, how he sounded so sure and so serious. It was more than that, though, because Massie felt the ties between them loosen. There were no knots anymore, nothing to keep them together.

He couldn't know. He didn't know.

But he was still letting go.

"Okay," she finally whispered and he smiled. It was small and she wasn't sure why it was there, but he lowered his head, busying himself with the antiseptics and band-aids.

She watched him struggle for a moment or two before she turned away, plopping down next to Derrick on the couch. He looked over at her, the heat of his stare burning the right side of her body, but then it was gone, and he was twisting twisting twisting again.

"Hey," she mustered up.

"Hello."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

It was the only one syllable word that ever hurt and she had been called a bitch more times than she could count. _No_ was so harsh, so mean, and for some reason, she felt like he didn't trust her. And that stung more than any name ever could.

Derrick swallowed then, meeting her gaze with a slight turn of his head. "I have to call my mom, though," he told her, eyes swimming. "Will you come with me?"

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.

.

"Dad's pissed, Claire." Todd's voice was soft as he entered the room, placing two bowls of god knows what on her nightstand before he gently pushed her door shut. "He doesn't even want you to eat," he told her, which explained the china. "I, for one, think that's rude and you should eat. The only thing I could sneak up was cereal, though. He knows I can eat a whole box of Cheerios on my own."

Claire should be touched. Really, she wanted to feel anything other than emptiness, but she couldn't pull the emotions out of the crevices. It was like playing a game of hide and seek she was continuously losing. She accepted the food, though, because she _was_ hungry.

"Why'd you do it?" Todd asked. She wondered if he knew she was hardly functioning. Still dressed in her pajamas, hair a mess, and wearing a pair of mismatched socks, he had to. But he still talked to her like she was completely normal, as if he were asking her a question about normal, everyday things, not the reason why she swallowed five to six pills a day for fun.

She didn't know the answer to the question. She was told to, maybe, but he wouldn't have that. He'd say something along the lines of "You have your own mind, Claire, that was stupid" and he'd want to know the _real_ reason.

And the real reason was too hard to bare. It was as simple as the alphabet, as riding a bike, as learning the words to your favorite song – she was acting out. There were no dramatics, no heart-wrenching sob story. She wanted attention after she lost it. Not _this_ kind of attention, but attention all the same, and she had it for a little bit.

Being friends with Skye Hamilton and considered a part of her elusive clique was exactly what she needed. Everyone stared, talked, whispered about them all, with their blond hair and blue eyes, fabulous fashion senses, and ability to woo boys. At first, that was all that mattered to Claire, all she needed to forget about the shit that was going on around her.

And then it wasn't. The new friends, the new lifestyle, the new way she got to and from school wasn't enough to forget about how Cam didn't want her, or how Josh didn't seem at all upset when she dumped him, or how Massie and Alicia could threaten her like they were never once best friends. She remembered how her father changed from funny button-up shirts to expensive suits, how her brother spent all of his time with the 'cool kids' in his grade, and even more time with the soccer team, and how her mother abandoned them all, leaving almost everything behind, wheeling a small, small, _small_ suitcase behind her.

Parties and alcohol and pills and boys drowned out the crap that was piling up in her life. She could've gotten away with it if she had been more careful, maybe switched from different bottles in the medicine cabinet instead of relying solely on the Percocet.

Todd didn't want to hear all of that. He wanted a real answer as to why she physically allowed her tongue to swallow the things it did, so all she could say was, "I don't know" because a part of her really didn't.

The other part, though, was busy wondering how she could have been so stupid as to get herself in this much trouble.

"You don't know," he repeated in a bored fashion, spooning soggy cereal into his mouth. "How do you not know?"

"I just don't," Claire snapped, "and I'd really rather not explain myself to a fourteen year old."

"I think you forget you're only a year older than me," Todd accused, narrowing his eyes. "Being fifteen while I'm fourteen means nothing."

The blond rolled her eyes, playing with the food in her lap. Pressing down on the little circles with her utensil as if she were drowning them, she hummed lightly, knowing her indifference to Todd and all he said would make him unnecessarily angry.

"_Claire_."

"I'll be sixteen in two months."

"How is it that you can be so rude to me and dad but when it comes to these girls you're hanging out with, you lose all the backbone you've ever had?" her annoying brother questioned, pulling the bowl away from her. If she wasn't going to eat it, he was. "What makes them better than us? We're your family. There's no reason for you to speak to us like we're less than that."

Claire glared at him, unable to answer yet again. She hated it when Todd somehow made a good point, because once upon a time, he was just a nuisance who liked to poke and prod his way into her life. But he brought up a good point – _why_ did she treat them that way? Because she could? If she even thought about snapping at the DSL Daters the way she did at her father, they would drop her so quickly on her ass it would bruise for weeks. Her family would never leave her high and dry… or maybe they would now, all things considered, but they couldn't. No, they couldn't. They were her flesh and blood. They loved her unconditionally. Friends didn't do that, so she had to make sure she was in the safe zone always, even if that meant sucking up.

Remaining silent, her eyes moved to the clock by her bed – one of the only things her father let her keep in her possession – acknowledging the fact that it was almost 11:30 at night. The words were out of her mouth before she could control them, the subject awkwardly changing, "Did you go to the game?"

Todd sighed, swallowing. Claire watched him eat, regretting that she allowed him to take away her food. Who knew how long her father was going to punish her for?

"Yes."

"How'd it go?" Not that she cared.

"I would say bad but that doesn't seem to properly describe it." Todd's forehead creased, gaze flickering from her face to his phone as if he were waiting for something. "Derrick got replaced, Kemp punched one of the Hotchkiss guys in the face on the field, Briarwood lost twenty-three to ten. There was no way we were going to beat them anyways but there was this nice little hope that we would. We could've, I guess, if Hotchkiss didn't play as dirty as it did."

"Oh." It was all Claire could say. _Oh_ because she didn't care. _Oh_ because she remembered when she did.

It didn't seem to matter what she said, though, because Todd was already deeming her bad company. He piled the bowls on top of each other, gripping the two spoons in his other fist. The mattress squeaked when he stood and Claire felt an overwhelming sensation to keep him there, chained next to her, so they could talk… but she didn't do anything about it, watching him stumble over his growing feet.

"I hope you figure out why you did the things you did," he said and, for once, it wasn't like he was trying to be better than her. "And I'm sorry for whatever Dad decides to do to you."

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.

.

It was cold outside, but Derrick could hardly register it. His hands shook and he took that as a sign that maybe he could physically but not mentally feel the temperature dropping; the way the pads of his fingers slipped and slid across his touch screen made him swallow roughly and he was about ten seconds away from throwing his phone in defeat when Massie reached over to pluck it out of his grasp.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, envying the way she could keep herself composed – why couldn't he? Why why why – and felt pressure back in his palm when she returned his phone. The screen shone brightly in the dark night, "Mom" and a timer glaring up at him. One second gone by, two, three—

"Mom," he choked out as soon as she picked up. His skin prickled with discomfort at the sound of his small voice and he kind of wished he were alone, but then he didn't, because Massie was stroking his hair like he was five years old again, and he could breathe.

There was a lot of movement on the other line and he sighed in what could only be relief. She was at work. "Derrick, honey?" She sounded worried. "Are you alright?"

"We lost, Mom." And then he was gasping like there wasn't enough oxygen in the world. He could hardly feel Massie's fingers on his head anymore – were they still there? – and the world was spinning, spinning, spinning. He listened to her even breathing, trying to mimic it, but failing, remembering the things he did in that locker room, things that he would never be forgiven for.

Arguing. Attacking. Defending. Leaving.

Candace said something to him then, but he missed it, his words slurring and jumbling together, "Youcantgohome."

His father would be there after he drank himself into an oblivion at the nearest bar, destroying everything in his path. There was no way he or his mother were going to be in the way of that, that was for sure, and Derrick didn't care if he had to hide forever. No no no no no no.

His mother didn't argue with him, and he wondered if she could hear the fear that was gripping at his heart, his mind, his limbs, because all she said was she would call up Josh's mom and see if she could spend the night there.

_Good_, he found himself replying, and the suffocation slowly evaporated. He could feel Massie's presence again and that was oddly comforting.

The conversation was over shortly after that since she had to go back to work. Derrick liked that she never once asked him what happened, knowing he would explain eventually when he saw her next. He liked that she listened to him, was going to make sure she didn't go back to their house until he wanted her to, and he even liked when she told him she loved him.

When he hung up, shoving the phone in the pocket of his sweatpants, he could feel the cold. It nipped at his nose, stung his cheeks, snuck inside his bones. He was shivering this time, teeth chattering, knees shaking.

"I can't go home," he told Massie, gaze set on the huge tree in the center of her backyard. Once upon a time, when she threw Halloween parties, it was decorated in blood red lights.

"So don't," she replied, her hand gently resting atop his.

Derrick swallowed, slowly thinking out his next question, unconsciously linking their hands together. "Do you…" he started, but that didn't seem right at all, so he shook his head, clearing it. "Can I… can I stay here?"

It took a moment for Massie to answer positively – with an unspoken _for as long as you need to_ – and when she did, he didn't feel as cold anymore.

.

.

.

Awkward silences were the absolute worst. No one would talk, a thick layer of tension like fog would settle above them, and it was so painfully obvious that everyone was itching to run far away. Alicia never thrived in these situations, unable to take control of the discomfort, and it seemed like every time she was around a person, this would happen.

This time, it wasn't actually her fault. After Kemp had brushed her off like she was nothing, she curled up into herself, looking but not watching all those around her, and she noticed, albeit vaguely, that _they_ were the ones who didn't seem to know what to do. Massie and Derrick had disappeared somewhere – no one had bothered to even make the slightest of innuendos, which was odd, since that was Josh's favorite thing – and they were lost.

She didn't think much of it at first, inclined to stay inside her mind, the soothing way in which Chris rubbed his thumb against her hand keeping her from having one of her usual breakdowns. Soon enough, though, her thoughts were not what she wanted to focus on. Everything was too depressing, too real, and reminded her that she couldn't hide forever. She wished she could maybe spend the rest of her life under her covers. That would be nice.

Chris leaned over her to say something to Cam. Her eyes settled on the birthmark right by his ear, masked almost completely by a little curl. He could come, too. They could hide under her covers, not in the sexual way, but like they were kids making a fort. They could play pretend.

"Feeling okay?" he asked, giggling a little bit because of something his friend said.

Alicia wished she knew what made him so happy; she loved the pink flush that spread across his cheeks, the amused twinkle in his eye, his dimples. Alas, she did not, so she could only hope others would do the job for her.

"Yeah," she whispered. Looking at him right there, she felt completely safe. Warm. It was odd, really, because who would have thought Chris Plovert would be the one to make her that way? She talked to him maybe twice before this year. It was probably something rude, too, and that made her heart constrict, dropping to her feet. To think he still wanted everything and more to do with her after that was completely astonishing – she was still waiting for him to pack up and go. She was a mess, after all.

"Good." He squeezed her hand. "I'm glad."

Her heart jumpstarted back to life so quickly she felt as if she were about to choke on it. He was glad. _Glad glad glad_.

"I wanna tell them," she murmured, words so soft she wasn't sure if he picked them up.

But the way he eyed her carefully made her know he did and she bit her lip, unsure as to why she thought he was about to yell at her for suggesting it. "Are you sure?" was his only question.

Alicia found herself nodding vigorously. "They want to know where Dylan is. We can't tell them why she's not here without that part of the story." She rubbed her eye, swallowing back a sigh. "She ignored Kristen's texts all because of something _I_ did."

Chris' arm snaked its way around her shoulder, fingers pressing deftly into her shoulder like a practiced masseuse. "You don't have to tell them if you don't want to," he reminded her, "and you don't have to tell them right now. You can do it later."

She liked the way he spoke, so concentrated and sure, his voice a low rumble beneath her skin.

"I can't keep secrets forever, Chris. It'll only hurt me in the end."

"Okay," he answered, and that was that. "Are you going to wait until Massie and Derrick come back?"

She glanced towards the foyer, where she had watched the duo slip off to, and shook her head. "I think I can do this on my own."

Alicia didn't speak for a few minutes after that, observing the room. Her stomach flipped as she did so, making itself a place for fear to live, even if only momentarily. Why was she so afraid of these guys? They were her friends and there was nothing even moderately terrifying about them. She had known Kristen her whole life, watched her lose baby teeth, win the county-wide spelling bee, and go through puberty. There was no way she could be scared of someone that grew up alongside her. Josh was a sweetheart, one that didn't really like her no matter how hard she forced herself on him, but a sweetheart nonetheless. Kemp wasn't as much of a jerk as he made himself out to be – there was no way someone so self-centered and awful would go after a person for calling a friend, a _girl_, a slut. Cam was Cam and he was endearing and passionate, always two steps ahead with everyone before himself. Even though Derrick wasn't there, and neither was Massie, those were the two people she hoped would never, ever leave her because without them, she would've been a puddle on the ground. Derrick had lifted her up in more ways than she could count; Massie had ignored every single thing said about her just so Alicia could tell her in confidence when the time came. And Chris… he was there even when she didn't know it, in the back of her mind, right behind her…

These were not people to fear.

There were others – Skye, Danny, even Claire – that she needed to be wary of… but not these guys. Never them.

It was with this thought in mind that she opened her mouth, speaking loud and clear, with Chris' warmth at her side to back her up.

It came out as more of a question than she wanted it to: "Guys, can we talk?"

And normally with this, either Kemp or Josh would make a joke about always wanted to be a part of Girl Talk, but she sounded much too serious for any of that to happen.

They all turned to look at her, Kristen tucking her feet underneath her in a pretzel, Kemp rolling onto his stomach, Josh dropping his phone into his hat.

"What's up?" Cam questioned from beside her.

"I want to tell you why Dylan's not here."

"Shouldn't we wait for Massie and Derrick for that?" Josh piped up.

"Massie knows," Alicia answered, "and I think she might have told Derrick…"

Josh nodded like he understood completely, which he might have, especially when he added, "When they went to get hot chocolate."

"Probably." She most likely did; Derrick was a few inches away from complete dick at that point.

"Okay, what happened?" Kemp demanded, resting his forehead on his interlocked hands, face buried in the carpet.

Alicia swallowed, looked to Chris for reassurance, and then began. "In order to tell you, I need you guys to know something else." No one made a move to speak, only a rustle as Josh fidgeted at the foot of the armchair Kristen was sitting in. "Back in, like, September, I think, I… I –" She faltered, voice shaking, mentally slapping herself upside the head. _This wasn't supposed to happen! Friends, friends, friends. Remember that. _

She took another deep breath. Chris shifted closer to her, almost in a glide. His personal smell overwhelmed her senses and she felt like she could breathe once more. It was almost as comforting as his embrace was the other night when she hysterically told him the truth.

"I slept with Danny Robbins." It didn't come out choked or nervous. She'd thank Chris for that later.

"_You did?_" Kristen all but squealed, almost kicking Josh in the head as her legs flailed. "Why didn't you tell us?"

_She's not yelling, she's not yelling, she's not yelling_.

It was the only thing she could get through her head at the moment, the question briefly forgotten. Kristen was curious, a little red from apologizing to the boy at her feet, but not angered. The boys didn't jump up to call her a slut. This was nothing out of the ordinary, like she was suggesting they get Chinese for dinner. This was good.

She just hoped it would stay this way. She couldn't handle watching another back as it walked away.

"I hated myself," she began again, forgetting what Kristen asked. "I didn't… I don't know I wanted to do that or not – and please don't give me that look, Kemp, I know for certain he didn't take advantage of me – but the next day, when I was sober… I don't think I've ever cried that much."

She could feel Cam's frown and the intense way in which Kemp was staring at her made her a bit uncomfortable. Still, she plowed on. She was afraid if she didn't, she'd stop sooner rather than later, leaving them with some pathetic excuse that didn't exactly explain why Dylan had abandoned them.

"I'm pretty sure you all know that I was scared of school for a while, blah, blah, blah, and that Danny was constantly rude and vulgar to me, as was his stupid pack of friends…"

"Another group of people I don't like," Kemp muttered.

The corners of Alicia's mouth lifted in what could have been described as a smile if it wasn't so sad – who _didn't_ Kemp hate? "So," she continued, "I'm going to skip over all of that because it's not cute. Just know I cried some more, hid a little bit, and that's when I became friends with Derrick." She sniffed, her insides twisting painfully. "And Dylan heard the rumors, I guess, because she called me all sorts of names and told me I probably liked it because I was a slut, and the only reason boys even bother with me is because I put out."

"_What_?"

"That doesn't sound like her at all." Kristen frowned, grabbing her phone, but thinking better of typing anything out. "I don't…"

"Massie was there when it happened," Alicia forced herself to go on, "and we're under the impression that she's just trying to blow off a little steam from the drastic changes." No, they weren't, but it was the nicest thing she could say. She didn't want them to know it was her fault Dylan was out of their lives for good. She felt awful enough as it was. "It still hurt because she's one of my best friends and they're not supposed to turn on you like that, I guess."

Josh frowned deeply. "Don't defend her."

"Josh!"

He ignored Kristen's surprised outburst, locking eyes with Alicia and never wavering. "That's something you don't make excuses for. Who cares if she can't handle what's been thrown at her? There's no reason to call you anything and walk away without learning the truth. If you look around, none of us have stormed out because you slept with Danny. We're hearing you out… and I don't think we're going anywhere."

"But Dylan –"

"It's not worth it. Don't dwell on what she did and don't let it define you either."

"Alright, Mother Theresa," Kemp attempted to joke, although his words came out more like a snap than anything else. "That girl doesn't know much, does she? She doesn't get when things are funny, she doesn't get when you're _sorry_ for something, and she doesn't understand that people don't talk about everything all the time. We're definitely not a soap opera or I'd be marrying my first cousin once removed and then the family that hates me would steal my mother or something, make a clone of her, and try to take over the town by running for –"

Josh interrupted him, "Do you watch Days of Our Lives?"

"No, what the hell is that?"

The boy blinked. "A soap opera that sounds eerily similar to the one you just made up…"

Kemp reddened. "Oh. No. I… aren't they all like that? Like. Weird, yeah? I thought it was just… everyone marries their cousin in soap operas!"

"No, not really…"

"Do you watch soap operas then, Josh? You sound like such an expert." Kemp snorted. "Actually, scratch that. Don't answer. I don't want to know what you and Massie watch when you're together. Your friendship literally makes me nauseous."

"That's fucking rude," Josh retorted with a wrinkled nose. "I'm pretty sure Kristen said the other day at lunch that Teen Wolf was on and you practically _leapt_ from your seat and said you'd be there at – "

"IT WAS ONE TIME," Kemp insisted, sounding slightly hysterical. "And it's because that Germany or Europe girl is hot and –"

"I'm also pregnant," Alicia blurted, unable to hold it in any longer. Maybe they wouldn't hear it over the crazy soap opera argument.

They did, of course, because nothing ever went her way.

Three words. Three words and everything changed. Alicia dropped her gaze to her feet, her face heating up so much she felt as if a fire had started inside of her. No one said anything (nothingnothingnothing); the silence was so loud it echoed, ringing in her ears. She wished more than anything else – more than she ever wished she could be better than Massie, more than she ever wished Josh would love her, more than she ever wished she hadn't slept with Danny – that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

Alarms were ringing now, but only she could hear them; their blares reverberated through her head, bouncing around her cranium, creating nothing but a massive headache behind her eyes. _Abort mission, abort abort abort_.

If she got up fast enough (really fast, like faster than the speed of light) she would be able to find herself outside before they registered enough of what she said. She'd be gone before they could come to terms with what she did and how she was being punished for it. She could cry cry cry a river, drown in it, and never have to deal with them, or _herself_, ever again.

She was very aware of Chris, but even he seemed cold, no longer a comforting presence. He was disgusted by her, he had to be. No matter what he said, forgetting the nice smiles he sent her way and the warmth of his hand over hers, he couldn't believe what she did. He was going to get up and leave, running off until he could find another girl, a different girl, to like (obsess over for years), one without the amount of baggage she had.

The space next to her was cold now.

(She was right, she was right, she was _right_.)

Her only allies were wrapped up in themselves outside, doing god knows what, not worrying about her. No one worried about her. No one cared to. They had, but they stopped… that's what happened when you made mistakes.

All it took was one time - or maybe more - all of the blunders stacking up higher and higher until they were a skyscraper in the city. At that point, it was all over. It didn't matter all the things you did, the things you tried to fix, the people you tried to love. One wrong move and you didn't matter. Everyone walked away from you and all you could do was watch – you never mattered. Not once.

Hands cupped her cheeks, adding to the heat until she was a hundred percent sure she was on fire. A soft voice coaxed her to come back to reality, to look (_look, Alicia, look_) until her entire world was blue, the prettiest blue of all, the kind of color Crayola would never be able to reproduce. They'd never get it right.

"Stop crying," Chris told her softly, catching salty tears on his thumbs.

She was? When had she… No, she couldn't possibly be… but her eyes hurt, her face was wet, it hurt to breathe…

"Don't leave me." It was a choked sob, ragged and almost incomprehensible, but it was enough.

"Maybe I should take you home," he suggested. Someone moved behind him, but he didn't falter, not once bothering to look at who it was. "You can get some sleep, it's been a long –"

"No, no, _no_," Alicia begged, grabbing his wrists in a move so desperate it was hard to believe it was coming from her. But he had to understand, he had to _know_. "I can't. I won't. No. I've been there too long. I need to – I want to stay here."

Chris nodded his head, squatting in front of her. The words that followed soon after her refusal did not come from him, though, and she craned her neck to find the source of the noise.

"When did you find out?" Kristen.

"Coupla days ago," Alicia replied lowly. "My pediatrician tested me and I'm supposed to set up an appointment with a gynecologist, but I don't want to go."

Josh spoke next, face red. "Can you… can you, uh, abort it?"

Alicia bit down hard and fast on her lower lip, stinging pain erupting through her mouth. "I think," she started, disappointment flooding her every pore, "I think it's already a baby. I don't… it might be too late."

"We'll go to the doctor and find out then," Kristen told her, a small, but genuine, smile taking the place of the stoic expression she possessed earlier. "We'll figure it out. One step at a time."

"You don't have to," she urged. Even though their words were nothing but positive and no one had slammed a door in her face yet, she needed them to know they didn't have to do anything with her. They didn't need to pity her or drag her to the doctor because she wouldn't take herself. That's not what she wanted when she told them.

She didn't want help. She didn't want support. She wasn't deliberately going out of her way to make sure she got those things. She just wanted to believe someone would still love her, no matter what the circumstance. Once she told her parents… _no, Alicia, don't think about it right now_.

"That's what friends do, Leesh." The nickname made her feel so relieved she thought she could burst. "It's just the three of us now."

"I'm sorry I made Dylan go," Alicia murmured, Kristen's words reminding her of the redhead's anger. "I understand if you want to be friends with her still. I'm not going to stop you."

The blond shrugged lightly, but she looked more serious than ever in that moment. "I texted her ten times, called three, and even left a voicemail. She hasn't answered. This isn't like her at all."

"I'm sorry," the Latina said again. "Imsorryimsorryimsorry."

"It's not your fault," Chris and Kristen said at the same time – wasn't it funny how their names were so similar? Alicia'd laugh if she could feel anything other than complete misery.

"Yeah," Cam added, the crease in between his brows softening. "This just gives me more of a reason to punch them in the face. If we were still playing soccer I'd totally kick the ball at Danny's nose… but I think Hotchkiss beat him up enough for you."

Alicia licked her lips, shifting so she could see the rest of the group. They remained in their previous positions, the only difference being that Kemp was leaning his chin on his hands instead of his forehead. "Why are you going to stick around with me? I'm a mess."

"I'm totally going to get brownie points for not ostracizing the pregnant girl, so there's that," Kemp teased, his voice and eyes light.

Josh scoffed at him, reaching a toe to prod obnoxiously at his shoulder. Kemp swatted him away. "There's no reason you should deal with this alone."

"We've been friends since, like, the third grade, Alicia," reminded Cam.

She found Chris again, in the midst of it all, and what he said seemed to calm her down the most. Three words. Three words and everything was okay again. (For the most part, at least.)

"I like you."


	39. thirty eight

(_sorry if this comes up as a new update, I had to edit some things!_)

Thank you for the nice reviews, everyone :) I hope you like this, it seems they're getting tougher and tougher to write as I get closer to the parts I had already thought of when I first started this story. I'm pleased with parts of this, not all, but it will have to do. I can't win all the time.

I think I'm also going to put this on hiatus while I try to get everything running smoothly again. I'm not sure if me telling you this matters much since I tend to update slowly, but I thought I would give you a head's up. So if I don't come back with another chapter before school starts up again (August 25), I've definitely put this on hold for the time being.

* * *

><p>The silence they had been stuck in was accompanied by the indescribable sounds of the night and it only seemed to make things worse. Derrick's fingers were starting to ache with numbness, red from his persistent fiddling. The temperature must've gone down at least ten degrees since he first got out here, but he had no desire to stand, to move.<p>

Familiar fingers raked through his hair, adding just the right about of pressure to his scalp – if he were a kitten, he was positive he'd be purring with absolute delight. His stomach flipped with a twinge of guilt despite his overall obliviousness to everything else – Massie didn't have to be out here with him. In fact, he didn't deserve it.

She was odd, Massie. For a girl who hated his guts not even a full year ago, a girl that originally wanted nothing to do with him, she always seemed to be there when he needed someone the most. She was the last person he would expect to sit in the winter cold with him and yet here she was. Not that it was a bad thing, just intriguing.

Not once did she pry further than the phone call or the request to stay the night nor did she suggest they go back inside, even though Derrick could see the shivers racking her body.

"Cold?" he murmured and she started slightly, obviously not expecting him to speak up any time soon.

"No, I'm –"

But he was already sliding his arms out of the warmth of his hoodie, tugging it off his wiry frame. Massie protested weakly, trying to shove it back in his grasp, but he offered her a small smile, one that didn't reach his eyes – it didn't even try – and wrapped it around her, ignoring her flailing limbs. He even went as far as forcing her into the sleeves, so close to her he had to remind himself to breathe correctly whenever the sweet scent of everything Massie hit his nostrils.

In, out. In, out. Steady, steady, steady.

"But," she started to protest, "you're going to –"

"I'll be fine," he promised. She stared at him quizzically; without his sweatshirt he was in only a long sleeve shirt that clung to his chest, made of a material so flimsy it was almost see-through. He had tossed his Under Armour in the trash along with whatever remained in his workout bag, leaving him with only the clothes on his back. "Really," he insisted. "I don't even feel it."

And he didn't. Not most of the time. The cool wind would kiss his cheeks, his neck, his feet (only in socks), but it didn't do anything but render his fingers useless, which didn't matter much; he was only doing the same by wrapping strings around them, tight until they were white from lack of blood flow.

Massie didn't seem to believe him, but she didn't push it, her hand playing with his hair once more. These motions, the even back and forth, like the ocean's waves, comforted him. It was what his mother used to do when he was little, upset over things like nightmares and scary movies, her voice soft and gentle as she explained that none of that was real, it was created, spun from thoughts and ideas. Derrick tried to pretend that was where he was now, ten years old and frightened of a dream that attacked in the dark.

Only with eyes shut tight could he transport himself back. Ignoring the eerie silence of the early hour, the creaking of trees were replaced with a song, the one that calmed his nerves and lulled him back to sleep.

But as it always did, reality hit when he didn't drift off, his dreams changing to something much more cheerful. The song ended as all songs do, his mother's voice trailing off, and the quiet returned. Massie's fingers were the only thing that remained the same in both this world and then one he tried to create, but that was it.

He couldn't pretend this was something he had weaved in the back of his mind, his subconscious delighting in the twisting and turning of his panicked sleep. There was no way he could conjure up something that felt so _real_ – even in dreams that seemed like every day life there was a flicker of falsity, something that didn't make sense – but here… this was all plausible.

Realistic.

In dreams, things didn't add up. Dogs could talk. The sky was orange. The grass was purple. Things he so desperately wanted were now in the palm of his hand as if they belonged there all along.

Here, there were reasons behind everything. Dogs barked. The sky was blue. The grass was green. He had to work hard to get the things he wanted and sometimes he didn't get them.

In the real world, his father was a psychotic prick and Derrick was a victim.

In dreams, he could find ways to get rid of the man and be nothing but a teenage boy.

This wasn't a dream. No matter how hard he tried.

"My dad has a drinking problem," was what he broke the silence with, avoiding eye contact with the girl beside him.

"You don't have to tell me anything," she responded quickly.

Derrick swallowed. "I need to tell you _something_. I can't just expect you to sit out here in the cold with me for no reason."

"I don't." Her harsh reaction startled him, causing his head to turn in her direction. "And you don't either. I'm here because you don't have to be alone. I'm not here for answers. I don't _need_ them and you don't _need_ to give them. I will sit out here for as long as you want as many times as you want."

He scrutinized her for a few long, agonizing seconds, but he couldn't detect any sort of ill will in her face at all. She was nothing if not genuine, her expression unreadable but her eyes speaking volumes. Derrick could do nothing but let himself fall into them, drowning as if they were the turquoise of the sea and not the ocher color they really were.

"You know, I look at you and I _want_ you to know," he told her, his confession making his heart pound and his palms sweat. "I feel like I can tell you anything."

"Derrick –"

"No. For once, I want you to hear what I have to say," he interrupted, frowning (even though he was still falling, falling, falling), "and I wasn't about to say anything that was going to make you uncomfortable, even though you're probably well-aware of how uncomfortable you make me."

Massie opened her mouth, most likely to deny the fact, but Derrick continued strongly, not about to let her ruin his one chance to _mean_ something. "I trust you, Block. That's all I'm trying to tell you. You could judge me, talk about me behind my back with your friends, and I'd still tell you all my secrets. I don't know why and I don't know how, but that's the way it is."

He let that sink in, attempting to focus his attention on anything else although he could only think of Massie, Massie, Massie – a welcome change to the things that once plagued his mind. It was like he was attuned to her with this ability to know what she was doing without having to see it; he could tell she was frowning, staring at him so intently he was surprised he was still sitting upright. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek like it was the last meal she'd ever have.

"And that's it," was what she finally muttered. "That's _all_, right?"

He could go down two roads here. One would lead him to safety, where they would probably continue to sit here in some sort of silence, Massie freezing but not telling him about it at all. The other was like an unexplored part of a forest – who knew what lived on the other side? Derrick had no idea what would happen if he stopped letting her get her way.

He didn't know when he started, but he was done being placatory. He was done being so goddamn _agreeable_.

"You know it's not."

"Derrick, don't."

It _always _came down to that. _Derrick, don't. Derrick, no. Let's not talk about that. There's nothing to talk about anyway. Why dig up the past? I like where we are now._

Massie tried to live in a bubble where she could control everything that went on. She held almost all of Westchester in the palm of her hand, able to alter opinions with just one look. Her smile could get her anything she wanted. It was as if her world was made of play-dough – when it started to tilt in a direction she didn't like, she could squish it back down and start from scratch, creating something even better in its place.

While she could play these games with her parents, her teachers, her _friends_, she could never get him to participate, and she wasn't about to now. It didn't matter to him that she didn't want to breach the subject, that she was (probably) more keen on listening to him ramble about his family. It was what _he_ wanted and for once, he was going to take the chance.

"_Don't_?" he questioned, indignant. "Do you know how long I've been… don't-ing?"

She shot him a look that made an embarrassed flush creep upon the skin of his neck – how eloquent was that? That wasn't even a _word_ – but a steely glint filled her eyes regardless of his vocabulary. "You said you weren't going to say anything that made me uncomfortable."

"Yeah, I did, and I changed my mind," Derrick replied, swallowing down the urge to snap. "Sue me."

"Len Rivera's the best lawyer in the tri-state area," she threatened.

A loud guffaw escaped him. "He's the best lawyer in the tri-state area that doesn't want to deal with you being peeved that I decided to go against your wishes."

"_Derrick_," she ground out, and that's as far as he let her go.

"I don't understand why you expect me to just agree every time you don't want to talk about something," he told her, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Her jaw was clenched and she was blatantly staring in the opposite direction. "You can tell me to stop all you want, but I'm going to bring it up."

Massie sniffed loudly. "And if I don't participate in the conversation?"

"I'm not going to wait forever, Massie."

"I'm not asking you to."

That was when the world exploded.

"_Dammit_, you _know_ I like you. Hell, even people on the other side of the world know!" Derrick was refraining from pulling at his hair, tugging, tugging, tugging until his scalp was sore, sick of her stubborn attitude. It had been endearing at one point, a major factor in what drew him to her in the first place, but now it was just infuriating. "Why can't you just _tell_ me instead of pulling me back and forth?"

She stared at him coldly. "Tell you _what_?" she demanded, but he could tell by the way she averted her gaze ever so quickly that she knew. She knew and she was playing dumb.

Well, this time, he wasn't going to sigh and move on.

"That you like me, that I'm not imagining the whole thing." Derrick swallowed, rubbing at the back of his heated neck. "I don't appreciate this… this being led on shit. I've been waiting for you to honest with me for _months_ and I've gotten nothing but a headache."

"You think you're the only one that's confused here, Derrick?" she returned pointedly. "I don't even know what's going on in my own mind, alright? You can't just sit here and imply that I'm being insensitive –"

"Don't turn this on me," he hissed at her, an uncharacteristic break in character. "I'm not being the bad guy here – and I'm not saying you are, _relax_ – I just want more than speculation."

"I don't –" Her voice broke off here before she could even get the rest of the sentence out and that – even though he had no idea what was going on as she stammered – did nothing but raise his hopes, flutter his heart, all of that stupidly sickening crap.

And then, well… she ruined it.

"I'm scared."

Derrick turned his entire body to face her, no matter how uncomfortable his leg felt slammed against the concrete of the stoop. His panicked stare caressed the sharp edges of her face, taking in her far-off gaze, the crease between her brows, the frown that pulled at the corners of her mouth. Heart hammering in his chest, more violently than ever, he blurted, "Of _me_?"

"Yes," she whispered, and that one word, just won syllable, was enough to make him want to die right there on the spot.

Okay… _no_. It wasn't that drastic of a feeling, but he was starting to drown under the ferocity of a wave of nausea. It pulled and prodded at his stomach the same way she did.

Scared. She was scared. Of him.

He really would've appreciated getting rejected at this point.

"I better get inside then," he mumbled dejectedly, ducking his head in order to keep his cheeks, reddening from embarrassment, out of her direct line of sight.

He pushed himself up and immediately crossed his arms over his chest in a pitiful way to keep himself protected although nothing could save him from the harsh reality of her words. Massie made no move to stand to follow him, her wide eyes blinking up at him when he made the mistake of looking down at her.

It was then that he felt the fatigue of the day overtake him. His eyelids drooped slightly, his shoulders hunched; he was instantly tired of the way he was being pulled in all sorts of directions. A small yawn escaped him.

Derrick avoided the girl after that, swallowing roughly, his own saliva bitter against his taste buds. Numb fingers gripped the doorknob, twisting it, and he sighed, pressing his forehead against the cold wood. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed her. Maybe it would have…

No, it wouldn't have changed anything. There was no reason in trying to get his hopes up for a better response. What happened in the past was irreversible, as was the strain on him emotionally and physically.

"_Derrick_…" Massie's voice was soft, carried to his ears only by the winter breeze. The tone spoke more than she did. He could hear her inner turmoil, the way she seemed to hate herself for telling him exactly how it was, but that didn't do anything. It didn't fix anything.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Block," he told her, shouldering his way back into her house. She didn't follow.

.

.

.

"Come _on_, Jamie," Dylan growled, pulling her sweater closer to her shuddering body. "I'm only at Starbucks, why can't you just –" She paused, an irritated look settling on her pale face. She never liked to be interrupted. "_No_," she ground out, "it's cold out! _Jamie_."

Her sister continued to spout some shit about how she was getting ready for something or another, unable to pick her up. Dylan could care less about which nameless boy she was attempting to manipulate.

"I'm only at Starbucks," the redhead pleaded, her nose starting to freeze. "Look, I'll even walk halfway… Jamie, it's _far_. Why are you so selfish? _I_ would pick _you_ up. She ignored the vehement laughter of a sister that knew she was lying, and pressed on, though her words fell on deaf ears. "You're a bitch, you know that?"

Jamie did know this and as she hung up on her, the giggles still rang in Dylan's ears.

Grumbling to herself, Dylan shoved the phone in the back pocket of her jeans. She rubbed her hands together, creating a warmth for about ten seconds, and pulled her sleeves over balled up fists. It did nothing to help her and she soon found herself gnashing her teeth together in order to keep herself from shivering too much.

Her house was on the other side of town. Just like… ten or eleven blocks. It was nothing she couldn't handle – she spent more time on the streets of New York City in a snowstorm. But then again, at the time, she had her friends who kept her mind off the biting cold and was able to swallow hot coffee without the fear of vomiting.

No matter how she viewed it, she wasn't going to like this trek either way.

It was dark out, too dark for Dylan's liking. She could hardly see two steps in front of her, her shoes disappearing in the shadows. The streetlights didn't help rid her off her tiny fears, lacking in their illumination. If she had worn sensible shoes (when did she ever?) she would be walking at a brisker pace than this, and there was no way she was about to continue on barefoot.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to get home, and she scurried along, almost jumping out of her skin when a car pulled up next to her, her voice shouted by a masculine voice.

She placed a hand to her pounding heart, debating between sprinting like a bat out of hell and turning towards the noise. She had seen enough movies and television to know that this wouldn't pan out well for her – and of course, she had to be wearing heeled boots – but before she could even think of an escape route, her name was called again, and the sound was actually familiar.

With a tilt of her head, her red curls cascading to the side. It wasn't a sketchy van parked there, but what looked like an impeccably clean, incredibly expensive Hummer. Instead of tinted windows and a man in a ski mask, it was James Ridder, hanging out of the passenger seat.

"_Of course_," she muttered under her breath. She was attracting all the weirdos tonight.

Maybe Ridder couldn't see the look on her face, maybe he could, but nothing stopped his loud motions. He continued to wave her over, offering her a ride back home, and anything other day, Dylan would respectfully – _not so much_ – decline. Unfortunately for her, the slap of winter was enough for her to swallow down her hatred and slip into the toasty backseat.

The driver, who turned out to be an older brother, started up the car again, the most popular music of the moment blaring from the speakers. Dylan allowed herself to warm up, sitting atop the hands that felt like icicles. One last shiver took over her body before she succumbed to the heat.

"It's late," Ridder observed, dashing all notions of a silent trip. He twisted in his seat, settling his light eyes on Dylan's odd position, speaking nothing of it. "Why are you out? More importantly, why are you out _alone_?"

"None of your business," Dylan shot back, nibbling on her bottom lip. What she would do to have her phone light up with dozens of text messages like it used to…

Ridder chuckled, clearly unfazed. "Testy tonight, are we, Marvil?"

She stared back unblinkingly. (_Someone text me, someone text me – anyone…_)

"You're not so scary without your friends, though," he remarked, a thoughtful pout on his face. Did he think that made him look cute? Someone should put him in his place. "It's a surprise to see you without them. Normally you're a force to be reckoned with but now…" A cheeky smile took over.

Dylan fought the urge to laugh aloud, settling on a scoff. "Are you going to kill me now that I'm without them?" she asked dryly, picking at her cuticles now that she could feel them again.

"No…" Ridder had the audacity to grin at her, making her insides tangle up in fury. "It just makes you easier to talk to."

"I don't want to talk to you," she snapped, sending a tiny, but nasty, glare his way.

And then he laughed – loud and boisterous, like it was _funny_. That only enraged Dylan even more. "Do you know why the others hate me? Or why it seems that Kemp Hurley is out for my blood? From the look on your face, I can tell that you don't." He licked his lips, an action Dylan watched despite herself. "Stop being a follower, Dylan Marvil, and maybe you'll see that _you_ don't really hate me."

The car stopped in front of her house, the lights on, but otherwise empty, and she sat there, frowning, mulling over his words.

"You'll also see," Ridder's voice grabbed her attention once more, "that I don't hate you. In fact, I could've let my brother drive right past you, but I didn't. I don't have a problem with you, Dylan, and you don't have a problem with me. Start thinking, why don't you?"

She swallowed, hand grasping the handle that would lead her out. She glanced at her shaky fingers in distaste, wishing the words of this stupid boy hadn't been the reason behind her uneasiness. "Thank you for the ride," she directed towards the brother – he hadn't spoken at all during the ten minute trip – and she wished her tone hadn't been so clipped.

"See you at school on Monday!" Ridder yelled, rolling the window up as the car took off down the road.

Dylan stood in her driveway, staring down the block long after they were gone. Her mind was racing, her world spinning, as she tried to figure out what exactly went on. She came up with nothing, just some ploy to get her comfortable enough to knock her down. She wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, even coming from a boy… especially a boy as slimy as James Ridder.

She spun on her heel, storming to her front door, trying not to remain as confused as she was. It wasn't worth it. What he said, what Skye said – it didn't matter much, but it still lingered.

She refused to let herself worry too much about it, the sudden interest wasn't all that important (_yes it is,_ her mind reprimanded), and stomped through her house, pausing to glower at the sight of her sister and some boy tangled up in each other on the living room couch. Yeah, this was far more important than her sister's limbs locking up because it was cold, causing her to drop on a corner, dying a slow and painful death.

"I hate you," she declared snottily, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs.

As usual, Jamie's laughter joined her.

.

.

.

Josh's head snapped up the moment he heard the front door slam shut. He craned his neck in order to get a better look at the foyer only to get overwhelmed with an immense disappointment when only Derrick walked back inside, throwing himself onto the couch. He watched the boy curl up into himself, frowning, and felt almost bad that he didn't care that much even though Derrick was one of his closest – if not _the_ closest – friends.

"Where's Massie?"

"Outside still," was Derrick's response. He immediately engrossed himself in the movie that was currently playing without volume on the television.

There was two seconds of what felt like a limbo before Josh pushed himself off the floor, narrowly avoiding Kristen's dangling feet, and made his way out of the room.

"Get her to come inside, she's going to catch a cold," Derrick mumbled as he passed him.

Josh nodded wordlessly, slipping out into the dark. He looked up for a moment, unable to take in the twinkling stars above; they never seemed to shine as brightly as the artificial lights they used to get around. He tore his gaze away from the sky, taking in the small form of Massie, and plopped down next to her.

She said nothing, didn't even bother to look over at him, but he saw her visibly relax. Was she expecting someone else to come out? Derrick, perhaps?

"Hey."

No response.

Josh tugged at his hair, free from his hat, and sighed. If she wasn't going to talk, he guessed he had to. "So Alicia told us all about Danny," he murmured. "I guess you knew about that already? She said you and Derrick did… not all of it, I don't think, but you had the gist, I guess. She thought we would all abandon her if we found out and she pretends that she's okay with the whole Dylan thing, but I can tell she's not. You're not either."

"I – I'm glad she finally opened up," Massie replied, fingers rapidly braiding and unbraiding her dark hair. Josh noticed the sweatshirt that wasn't hers, but kept his mouth shut. "But I don't know if that was the best thing for her to do…"

"Why is that?"

She looked at him but her eyes didn't hold the sparkle they normally did and it made Josh's stomach churn unnaturally. "She's not okay, yeah, and I'm pretty sure she's terrified, but she made no move to tell me, or anyone else, about the Danny thing until Dylan stormed out the door. I think she's doing it just to make sure she'll have us through it all, but I don't think she was ready to tell us. She wouldn't have let Dylan get to her as much if she was."

"What did Dylan say?"

"Something along the lines of believing a rumor because no one was telling her if it was true or not." Massie shrugged, looking tired. It was pretty late in the night, early morning, actually, if Josh were to be precise. "Dyl… always gets overdramatic when she's upset."

Josh frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It wouldn't to you, but…" Massie paused, almost as if she didn't want to tell him at all. "Most of the time, we would make up the rumors at school" – he turned his head quickly to look at her, raising his eyebrows. Sure, he knew that she wasn't the nicest person at OCD, but it was hard to believe that the girl he knew now still held that part of herself somewhere inside – "and if there were any about us, we would immediately get rid of them if they were far from the truth. I guess seeing that Alicia didn't try to stand up for herself was enough for Dylan to think what they were saying was the truth. I don't know."

"And now she thinks that Alicia's turning into a slut?"

Massie nodded once, although with a bit of hesitance. "I can't say I know much of what goes on in Dylan's head, but with the combination of going to school with you guys and Alicia's ongoing boy craziness, I think she believes this is what Alicia wanted to accomplish. And with all the walls Alicia has built up around her, it's hard to figure that out unless she tells you."

"Right…"

Josh cleared his throat and watched as Massie stared off at something in the distance. Obviously nothing important, her eyes seemed to glaze over as if she were deep in thought. And she was, of course. It seemed like today was the one day they had been unable to avoid any sort of drama. That meant she would be trying to figure out an end to it, a solution to a number of problems they kept getting thrown at them.

If there were one day she needn't do that, it was today. Stressful enough as it was, there was no point in floundering in it. All they had to do was allow it to go past them and let it settle. They couldn't fix anything while it was all still unraveling. At least, that was what his mother told him.

"And that's why you're out here?" he questioned, changing the subject. "Because of Dylan? Alicia?"

The tiny brunette let out another sigh, deep and heavy, leaning her chin on her palm. "Not exactly."

"Then… what's up? You can talk to me." He hoped.

"I screwed up." She rubbed at her face, getting her hair tangled in front of her face. "And I'm still sitting out here because of it."

Josh scooted closer to her. Maybe his close proximity would make her feel better about the situation, or maybe it would make her warmer than she was. The sweatshirt – Derrick's, he presumed – was doing nothing to keep her safe from the dropping temperatures of the nighttime. "What happened?"

"Derrick's officially done with my shit. This day is just getting better and better, you know?"

"I'm sure he's –"

"Don't even say he's not, Josh." And she sounded so dejected he could cry. Massie never once let her emotions get the better of her and as much as he liked the change in personality, he wished that would've stuck. "I'm not doing things the way he wants them, I guess."

He shook his head, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to his body. Her face pressed against his chest and he suppressed a shudder. It was _freezing_. "No one can force you to do anything, Massie," he reminded her gently, "and if he's done with your shit, it's his own fault."

"I don't _want_ him to be done with my shit," she whined back. "I try to do the right thing and I just end up screwing up no matter how hard I try."

"Don't say that," Josh told her, resting his cheek on the top of her chilly hair. He didn't know what else to do to make her feel more comfortable. He hoped he could get her to calm down enough to avoid a panic attack or something of that sort.

She sniffed. "I told him I was scared of him, Josh."

_Scared of him?_

He didn't even have to pose the question; it seemed like she knew he was confused and continued to plow on, "I don't… I like him, I do. I don't think I ever stopped, but I wanted to forget everything about him as soon as he dumped me, and I really don't know if I can handle… He told me he knows, that he likes me too, and I go and tell him I'm scared of him and that's why I don't act on anything. I'm not..."

She was tripping all over the place, tongue-tied and bewildered. Josh could only sit there and offer a listening ear, unable to untangle the thoughts inside her.

"I'm not scared of _him_," she finally mustered, "I'm scared of him breaking my heart again."

"I don't think he's going to do that," Josh told her softly. "You didn't see him after that. We did. And he was a wreck. Still is, I think."

Massie bristled. "If he was like that, why did he break up with me in the first place?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Mass. You should probably ask him."

"I don't want to," she retorted. "I want to avoid the whole thing. We're better the way we are now."

Josh raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her. "Are you really?"

She could only flush – in embarrassment or anger, he didn't really know. Josh knew this was a lost cause, trying to get her to do something she didn't want to, but in all honesty, she was preaching to the choir. There was nothing better about this situation, even if you took out the loss of her mother, Dylan, and Claire, which she liked to bring up when she was having a meltdown. Here she was, sitting out in the cold and Derrick was inside, drowning himself in his own self-pity. No matter what the reason, things were most definitely not the best now. Maybe a few days ago, but not today.

"I'm also pretty sure someone who is worried about you catching a cold genuinely cares about you."

She blinked, looking up again at him so quickly she smacked him in the face with her hair. "What?"

"Yeah." He chuckled at her current expression: a mix of extreme curiosity and indifference. The former was winning the battle. "Right before I left to come out here, he asked me to make sure you got inside or else you would catch a cold. If he was done with your shit, he probably wouldn't have said anything."

"He did tell me there was nothing to be afraid of…" she mumbled, more to herself than him.

"Why don't you just talk to him about it?" Josh suggested. "I'm not saying outright tell him all about your feelings and whatnot, but see if he'll explain things to you. Maybe why he dump– _broke up_ – with you… but you have to contribute, you know? Tell him _why_ you're scared of him. Don't make him think he's doing all of this for nothing. We're scared of rejection, too, Mass. Sometimes I think maybe a little more. It's hard to throw yourself out there and when you do, there's no turning back. I think it's something to applaud when you decide to break out of your comfort zone like that."

"I didn't…"

He shook his head. He wasn't done yet. "You know Derrick. He's not some hotshot asshole who thinks he can get whoever he wants. In fact, _Skye Hamilton_ wants to sleep with him and he doesn't even care. He can pretend to be full of himself all he wants but that's not who he is. He's going to try when he thinks there's something to try for and obviously you are."

"That means nothing. He tried for Olivia."

"No, he didn't," Josh said. "He didn't go out of his way to see her or to make sure she was alright. Olivia was just there when he needed someone to be."

Massie furrowed her brows. "And he needed someone to fool around with?"

"There's more to Olivia than you think, Massie."

"So are you her best friend now too?"

Josh felt his face fall at her words and Massie slapped her hands over her mouth, her own eyes widening as if she were just as shocked as he was.

"No, I didn't –" she spluttered, frantic and hard to hear behind her fingers. "That wasn't what I –" She tore her hands away from her face, gripping his hand – the one that hung by her shoulder – with a strength he didn't know she possessed. "Please don't leave me too."

His heart dropped at her panicked whisper, once again filling up with a guilt that always seemed to eat away at him when he was in this position. Here Massie was, spilling her every insecurity to him because she trusted him enough and he was unable to open his mouth to tell her the one thing that mattered the most. Did she think he had a perfect life or something? Did she even know there was something wrong?

He couldn't tell her that he was struggling with his sexuality, but he could tell Kemp and Derrick. Sure, they were his friends first and they didn't seem to have a care in the world about it, but he and Massie clicked. He knew she wouldn't ostracize him or even blurt it out to spite him, especially now that Alicia had come clean. She knew about that and she didn't say anything, not even to her best friends.

She would take it to the grave if he asked her to, but he couldn't open his mouth long enough to choke it out. He was pathetic.

All he could do was press a kiss to her temple and say, "I won't."

He hoped that was enough.

.

.

.

"Alright, _alright_, Harris." Cam stood from his spot lounged at the end of one couch, yawning. "Don't get your panties in a twist, yeah? I'll be right out."

"Hey, can I have a ride?" Kemp asked. He, too, stumbled to his feet.

Cam nodded quickly, mumbling into the phone about this and that and how much he didn't care about the girl his older brother met at the club. With the device in between his shoulder and his ear, he zipped his jacket up and went to pull his own soccer-related stuff out of the pile the boys had made in the front of the room.

"You can stay if you want," Massie's voice rang out, exhaustion taking over her tone. "It's late."

"Harris is already here and he'll kill me if I make him go home." Cam shrugged, shooting a small smile her way. "It's not like you're out of the way, but he's probably a little tipsy still. He'll be crankier than usual."

"My mom's already pissed at me because I didn't come right home after I got the shit beat out of me, so…" Kemp shrugged, eyeing the remaining six. "Don't have too much fun without me."

Josh started to say something but was drowned out by the sound of Harris honking the horn.

Cam sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "My _god_, I said I would be right there. _Jesus_." He hoisted his bag over his shoulder, one of his cleats dangling over the side, and all but saluted at his friends. "I'll talk to you guys tomorrow, I guess," he said as a farewell, "sleep peacefully. Leesh, call your doctor."

"Call your doctor?" Massie inquired, pulling the blanket she and Kristen were sharing tighter to her body. The blond groggily shot her a look, tugging it back.

Alicia chewed on her lower lip. "Yeah… there's a, um, possibility I'm pregnant?"

"What a day this is turning out to be," Massie muttered under her breath at the same time Derrick let out a startled "_What_?"

"I'm tired. I really don't want to talk about it right now." Alicia leaned her head on Chris' shoulder again, closing her eyes briefly. "You two were outside when I told them, but I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay?"

Derrick didn't seem very pleased but nodded anyway. Massie knew she would tell her when she wanted to, so it didn't matter when that time was. And it was true, it was obnoxiously late – almost three in the morning and they were all still up. Not very alert, but up nonetheless.

Kemp ruffled Alicia's hair as he followed Cam out the door, calling, "Thanks for the ice!" over his shoulder as he went. With a quiet click, they were gone, as was Harris' incessant honking.

For a moment, the sound of the television, some dramatic movie Chris had pulled out of the DVD cabinet in order to avoid infomercials filled the void the two left. Massie let it capture her attention for a while before she realized she had no idea what was going on and tried to get herself out of the comfort of her blanket without disrupting Kristen, who had promptly fallen asleep, something she had been doing on and off for the past hour and a half.

"Are you guys all staying?" she asked the group in a hushed tone once her feet were firmly on the ground.

"Mmmmhmm," Josh mumbled, resting his head on a pillow, heavy-lidded eyes trained on the action of the movie.

"Yes, please," Alicia replied. She was the only one who seemed to be wide awake. Even Chris, who had his arm wrapped around her waist, was half-asleep, and Massie hoped the girl would be able to follow his lead soon. She didn't want her up all by herself.

Chris slurred something that hit Massie's ears as a positive response. She didn't bother looking at Derrick, knowing he would be staying here for possibly longer than anyone else, and Kristen was already out cold.

"I'll just get some more pillows and blankets then."

"I'll help," Derrick offered.

_Of course you will,_ Massie thought almost bitterly, padding into the hallway. _I make a fool out of myself in front of you and you want to help me. _

The linen closet wasn't that far off, just through the kitchen and into the laundry room. Inez put all of their extra bedtime essentials there, making it easier for her to put them away when they were used for times like this. Massie flicked on the light, almost startled by Derrick's closeness, and pulled open the doors, rifling through the sheets and fleece blankets.

She would need at least six pillows, if not more, and comforters only seemed like the best option given the coldness of her house. Her heat could hardly compete with the chill outside.

"Here." She deposited the soft cushions in Derrick's arms, ignoring his wide-eyed stare. "Hold these."

She continued to pull things from the shelves, making a large pile on the ground. She had no idea where everyone was planning on sleeping – most likely the living room since that's where they all were now and she didn't have a functioning basement – but she knew for a fact someone would have to sleep on the floor.

If they removed the padding of the couches, two people could sleep side by side, but she wasn't sure who, besides Alicia and Chris, would be willing to do that. In fact, she wasn't even sure if the pair were even at that level of… whatever they were. Kristen was already curled up in the big armchair; Massie would just give her a pillow… Josh had the whole couch to himself…

_Whatever, doesn't matter_. Massie tried to repeat this in her head over and over, but it did nothing to calm her racing heart. There was another chair up for grabs, but she had never been able to get herself comfortable enough in it to sleep, so she would end up on the floor. That wasn't the problem, of course; what made her nervous was knowing that if _she_ couldn't utilize the chair, neither could Derrick.

Wordlessly she grabbed all of her things, shut the light, and returned back to the living room. Thankfully everyone was still in that in between stage of consciousness, making her life easy as she gave them the things they would need for the night.

Chris pulled off his shoes before following her advice of setting up the couch while Alicia pulled her hair up in a messy bun. Josh wrapped a blanket around himself before rolling onto his side, burying his head into the couch cushion. Derrick gently pushed Kristen up out of her seated position, putting a pillow behind her head. Before Massie could even get her makeshift bed put together, the rest of her friends were out like a light (even Alicia), leaving her with Derrick, alone and defenseless.

She ignored him, straightening out a sheet that would only end up wrinkled in a few hours. She didn't want to know what he did as a nightly routine even though she was highly aware that there was no way he could go about it. Without the necessities of his own home, he could only get himself situated for bed.

But still.

Her fingers twitched with neuroticism until there was nothing else to fix, her comfort for the night perfect in every way, shape, and form.

Massie gnawed on her lower lip, chewing it almost as if it were food. A number of thoughts ran through her mind, all describing situations in which she could leave the room for a while: doing dishes that weren't there, making herself some tea, bothering to find out where her father was.

But she hardly had a chance to pick one of them when a voice spoke up hesitantly from a short distance away: "I'm sorry."

"_Sorry_?" she blurted without much thought, furrowing her eyebrows.

He had no reason to apologize. He hadn't done much of anything to hurt her; in fact, it was _she_ that had undoubtedly hurt him. All he did was speak his mind when she couldn't and he was apologizing for that? There was something wrong with this picture.

"Yeah." Derrick rubbed the back of his neck – and Massie tried to ignore the way his arm muscles seemed to ripple beneath his shirt – looking much more nervous than sheepish. "I should have never tricked you."

"You didn't trick me, Derrick."

"What do you call me deliberately making you uncomfortable even though I said I wouldn't? I know how much this stuff bothers you. I shouldn't have tried to push it."

Massie shook her head, taking a page from his book and twisting threads around her finger. It was the only thing she could do to keep her hands from shaking. "I overreacted," she returned softly, unable to meet his gaze. "I know I'm not the best with… _all of this_, but I shouldn't have snapped at you the way I did. _I'm_ sorry."

It felt odd to take responsibility like that. She couldn't remember the last time she apologized and actually meant it.

Perhaps Derrick thought the same way because he stared at her as if she were an entirely different person, eyes narrowed just a tad, licking his lips at a painstakingly slow speed.

And then he took a step forward.

"Don't," was the first word out of his mouth, and he seemed to struggle after that. For a boy who was so good at speaking, he never seemed to be able to portray the elegance of his smooth voice in front of her. "Don't think you have to apologize. I don't know – maybe it's with everything that went on today, I wanted something _good_ to come out of it. I shouldn't have expected you to tell me everything I wanted to hear just because I craved it."

He continued to move until he was standing directly on the sheet, ruining all her hard work. She could care less, though, focusing more on the space, or lack thereof, between them. One large stride was all that separated them now. The mere fact made her heart pound. (_Great_.)

"I could've been a little nicer about it," she supplied. "Maybe not so much as bruised your ego or your confidence."

"And risk not being yourself? I wouldn't dream of it any other way." He shot her a small grin that tickled her heartstrings enough to create a song deep within her. Nothing too drastic, just a few chords that hummed a melody she seemed to already be familiar with.

He was still a good distance away that she could breathe freely but it was almost difficult to get the words out what with him towering over her, gaze so intensely trained on her. "I'm not scared of you. I hope you know that."

"I didn't."

Massie sighed, rubbing her eye with careful fingers. "I'm not scared of you as a person," she began and the rest of what she wanted to say ended up getting crowded in her throat, unable to move. "I _do_ like you, Derrick, it's just... I don't..."

This was working wonders.

She noticed Derrick didn't even seem to perk up at the confession. His attention was more on what she was trying to say than what she already did. If only he'd react to it instead of making her continue. She didn't know if she could.

"I just…don't want to get hurt again," she divulged, swallowing roughly and averting his gaze as if it were the only way she'd be able to hold on to her pride. Admitting this to him was much harder than Josh made it out to be.

He took the last remaining steps, hands on her face, warm and soft, lifting her chin up to look at him. He held her eyes in a way that made it challenging to look away. "Do you think I _want_ to do that?"

She shrugged, trying to remain indifferent, but failing drastically. "I don't know what you want, Derrick."

His answer took no thought on his part. "I want _you_, Block."

It almost made her melt right there, like putty in his hands. Four words every girl wanted to hear from the boy that took up the most space in their mind and yet Massie wasn't going to let herself get wrapped up in them.

Why?

She had no idea.

In place of something mushy, she retorted, "You do remember that you already had me once before, right?"

"Massie, please –"

"Don't _Massie, please_ me," she snapped. There wasn't much malice in her words, though. She was only confused by him at this point. "You dropped me like I was nothing and now you want me again? What sense does that make?"

"I've always wanted you, Massie." The color of his eyes darkened at his statement as if he were pushing her to say otherwise. "From the moment I met you when we were twelve to right now. I never wanted anyone, or any_thing_, more than I've ever wanted you."

"But you dumped me when you had me."

His jaw clenched, but his fingers were still gentle against her face. "You can't hold that over me. You don't know anything about that."

"Maybe I want to know," she forced out, voice nothing but a whisper. "Maybe I _deserve_ to know. You want to go back to the way we were? We can't until I know why it was so easy for you to break my heart the way you did."

"I… I – what?" Derrick recoiled as if he'd been slapped.

"Guess I'm better at pretending than I originally thought." She slipped out of his grasp, prepared to end the conversation right then and there, but he managed to grab hold of her wrist before she could get away.

Derrick tugged lightly, pulling her back, his face now a distinct pink color. "I did… I did _that_?"

"I find it funny you didn't once consider how _I_ felt about the whole thing."

"I didn't… I didn't know," Derrick mumbled, frowning. His lips moved quickly as if he were talking to himself; Massie could hardly catch anything he said, but it seemed to make him more and more upset. "_Fuck_."

Massie fought the urge to completely turn around and leave him there, finding it hard to abandon him with that look upon his face. That was what sucked the most about liking him: She never seemed to be able to let him sit in his misery, even if he caused it himself.

She took her free hand and followed his previous ministrations - her thumb rubbed lightly against his cheek and he snapped out of his funk at her touch. He still looked a bit dark, but it was nothing she couldn't handle.

"Don't beat yourself up," she murmured. "It's fine. It's over."

"_Fine_?" he squawked. "This isn't fine, Massie! I'm such a dick, I –"

" – can't change what's already happened," she interrupted. "Don't worry about it now."

Derrick didn't say anything and she was almost convinced he wouldn't until his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer to his body than she already was. He kept her flush against his chest, running his fingers through her hair. His heartbeat never held a constant pace - always racing or devastatingly slow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. _I'm sorry_."

He repeated it over and over until she felt as if those were the only two words she knew and yet, she didn't try to stop him.


	40. thirty nine

okay, hi. I didn't mean to scare anyone into thinking I was disappearing forever and inspiration for this came more quickly than I anticipated. It's a little shorter than usual, but I figured it was a good place to stop. Not quite sure if I'll have to put it on hiatus right now, so I'm here for a while! At least until school starts.

I very much appreciate all of your reviews. Thank you for telling me otherwise about the chapter; I never seem to think highly of how I write. I just like to. Anyways, I don't like this one much either, but it's necessary.

_Little Bebe_- I honestly have no idea how long this story is going to be. I never expected it to get this long in the first place and I'm starting to think it's a little _too_ long, but I'm not sure when to stop. We'll see where I end up by the new year, I guess.

If anyone watched the Teen Choice Awards - I hope you enjoyed Harry Styles twerking because I know I did.

* * *

><p>Cam shoved his nose into his heavy-knit scarf, trying to rid himself of the numb of the winter chill, and raised his fist to knock on the large, almost imposing, wooden door before him. The sound seemed to echo through the neighborhood, slow and empty due to the early hour, and he was almost sure no one was going to answer, which was starting to become an irritating theme of the morning.<p>

He sighed angrily, refraining from raking his hand through his hair, and made an abrupt turn on his heel. All he was trying to do was be the _nice guy_, but okay, whatever—

"Hey, hi—good-looking boy in the peacoat," said a breathless voice behind him and he snorted, almost falling off the top step. "How may I be of service?"

His multi-colored eyes settled on the blond as he took in her almost imperceptibly seductive gaze. He would've thought he was at the wrong house if she had not looked almost exactly like Dylan, just with lighter, straighter hair, a bigger nose, and a lack of freckles complimenting her pale skin tone.

With that in mind, Cam straightened his spine, and smiled. "Hi. I'm Cam. Is Dylan home?"

"Huh." Her sister, he presumed, tilted her head to the side, her hair swaying to reveal a neck full of dark love bites. "Cam, you said?"

He nodded, blatantly staring at the marks that adorned the older girl's skin. It seemed she had no shame.

"_Dyllieeeeeeeeee_!" her voice shrieked. (It also seemed she was a screamer, but Cam was just inferring.) There was a ringing in his ears that never ceased, even when she did. "THERE'S A BOY FOR YOU AT THE DOOR! A _CUTE_ BOY!"

Cam rolled his eyes, ignoring her wink as Dylan called back down to her, her response inaudible to him, but amusing to her. She left him by his lonesome at the front door, padding into another room, but he didn't dare step foot inside. He learned from the best (his mother) that he was not to enter a house until he was invited. No matter how cold it was… and he sincerely hoped someone would allow him entrance; it was getting more than a bit nippy as the day went on.

Rubbing his bare hands along the warmth of his coat, his prayers were soon to be answered—he hoped—when he noticed a head of red and a mint green fuzzy robe at the top of the stairs. Green eyes widened unabashedly at his appearance, but she seemed to swallow her shock, gripping the banister as she made her way down towards him, going at a speed that rivaled that of a snail.

Her toes were painted purple; he noticed when they were across from his boots.

"Cam," she greeted slowly, tightening her robe around her body. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

He suppressed a scoff at her sophisticated speech—there was something about these girls in Westchester and talking like they were well-to-do women rather than the teenage girls they really were—and blinked at her. "Didn't see you at the game last night. The girls said you weren't feeling well," he lied smoothly, stepping forward just in case she were to slam the door in his face, "and I thought I'd come by to see how you're faring."

Dylan pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Well, as you can see, I'm fine."

"A little too fine if you ask me."

Cam let his eyes roam over her figure, much to her frustration. Beneath her robe, she was dressed in her pajamas—tiny shorts and an equally tiny shirt. Her legs, barely covered, were creamy and white. Her face was pleasantly flushed, no sign of sickness-inducing paleness or the clammy sheen that came with this season's cold. Her eyes even held their usual sparkle, no dullness apparent. She _reeked_ of perfect health.

"It was a twelve hour bug," she brushed off, hand gripping the door tightly. Her fingers were the same color as her toes. "I'm fine now."

"So if I were to come in, I wouldn't catch your disease?"

"Right," Dylan agreed, "but no one said you could—_hey_!"

Abandoning all niceties, Cam easily slid past her into the threshold of the Marvil house. While she spluttered at him, still holding the door open, he looked around. It wasn't as big as he would've expected for the family of a famous talk-show host, but Merri-Lee certainly made up for it in expensive things. From what he could see, there was no sign that people even lived here, save for the shoes and jackets kicked around—all designer, of course; the labels were staring him right in the face. It was so unlike his own house and even Derrick's and Josh's. It was too fancy, too cold. It was nice to show off, he guessed, what with the crystal chandelier hanging from the dining room table that looked like it was never touched, but how could someone _live _here?

"I don't walk into your house and ridicule it," Dylan jeered. "So if that's all you're here to do, you can see yourself out. In fact, get out anyway."

"I walked all the way over here in the _cold_, so no." Cam tugged his scarf off, draping it along the arm of the couch. "I want to talk, Dylan."

She pressed her lips into a thin line, raising her eyebrow.

"You're a bullshit liar, you know that?" he began, making himself more comfortable. His mother would have a conniption if he knew how deliberately impolite he was being. "I would think being a part of the great Pretty Committee would teach you a thing or two since you four always seem to get your way." He grinned at her furious expression, ridding himself of his coat. "But you're just like everyone else. You look to the left, fiddle with your fingers, avoid eye contact… pathetic, really, Marvil."

Dylan glared at him, tapping her fingers against the door slowly. "And _what_ is it that you want to talk about?"

"Is that any way to treat a guest?" he countered.

"You're not _a guest_," she insisted through gritted teeth. "Now tell me what it is that's so important you just _had_ to walk all the way over here and barge into my home."

Cam cocked his head to the side, a smug smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I would like something to drink before we go down that road."

"You will not—"

He loosened her grip on the door and closed it gently. With a light squeeze to her wrist—she pulled her arm away immediately—he spoke, "Lead me to your kitchen."

Grumbling under her breath about insolence, Dylan spun around, stomping through the living room. He followed her erratic steps almost gleefully, amused at her annoyance, even if it was aimed towards him. No wonder Derrick loved getting under Massie's skin before he admitted to liking her—stuff like this was thrilling.

"You know," he started up, chuckling as she let out a loud, heavy sigh, "you're a lot crankier than I remember you being."

"Guess you didn't know me at all," she responded tightly, pulling open the cabinet to grab cups. "What would you like to drink, _Cam_?"

"I don't like your tone very much, but hot chocolate would be nice. I'm rather chilly."

She set her jaw, turning the burner underneath the kettle on without bothering to check whether or not it held enough water. He watched her rummage through drawers and containers before two packages of cocoa (with rainbow marshmallows, he noted) were tossed on the counter.

"Would you care to start talking or do you want to sit by the fire too?"

"We're friends, Dylan. There's no need for the hostility."

The redhead licked her lips, eyeing him down rather maliciously despite his attempts to make nice. Which really shouldn't have been classified as 'make nice' considering they _were _friends. Or they used to be. Cam had no idea what was going on and he wanted answers.

"I've told you this before," she hissed, spinning to turn the whistling teapot off. Steam rose from the spout, twisting and twirling up to the ceiling. "We are _not_ friends."

"That was when you were hungover and cranky."

"I'm not hungover and cranky now," she snapped, pouring the stifling water into the mugs with an angry hand. Some of it sloshed around them, maybe even getting on her fingers, but she made no sudden movements to either confirm or deny that fact.

Cam raised his eyebrows at her, blowing on the chocolaty drink to cool it off once she shoved it towards him. "Not hungover, yes," he agreed, "but not cranky? I'd say you are. I've been nothing but nice to you this entire time."

"You barged into my house, made fun of it, and then ordered me to make you a drink," she deadpanned. "Nothing but nice? You don't seem to understand the definition."

"You're even snarkier than Massie is. I don't know if I like it or not."

"I hope you don't."

_Jesus Christ_, the boy thought, swallowing down a blistering mouthful of hot chocolate. He had come to Dylan's house with a slight idea of what was going on—he had gathered enough from Alicia's tearful babblings the previous night—but there was one thing he never seemed to properly grasp: the redhead was funny in actions and thoughts when in a group, allowing others to do most of the talking and fighting when it came down to it. Alone, however, she proved there was a reason girls with attitudes and flairs like Massie, Alicia, and Kristen hung out with her. She was a spitfire; he felt like her every snap, glare, and slight brush of her fingers against his skin was burning him more than the drink was.

"Listen, Dylan, maybe I've gotten you all wrong, but I thought at least you would notice that someone is here, sitting across from you in your kitchen, just to make sure you're _okay_." He breathed noisily, running a hand through his hair. "And I'm the only one who's bothered, right? The only one who has decided to call you—_seven times_, I might add—and then come knocking on your door. Everyone else is at Massie's, probably still asleep, and they're all too busy clinging to Alicia to see how you are."

"Here to make sure I'm okay?" she repeated bitterly, rolling her eyes. "Sure seems like that's what you're here for. And thank you, by the way, for reminding me that I'm not as important as Alicia is. Go back to her, back to your _friends_. There's no need for you to be here."

Cam shook his head, taking another massive gulp of his drink to avoid the intensity of her stare. "There is a reason for me to be here."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"Maybe I've gotten you all wrong," he started, echoing his words from not even five minutes ago, "but I'm pretty sure I don't. I know you, Dylan. I know you still don't trust Plovert and Kemp and that's why you don't hang out when it's all of us. I know you still spit out your food into your napkin when you think nobody is looking. I know you wouldn't throw away a friendship as nice as yours with the girls for no reason. I know a lot of things you think I don't, but I don't know them all. And I think _you_ know _me_ well enough by now to know that I'm willing to find out why. I'm here to listen."

"I've had about three conversations with you in my entire life," she told him bluntly. "I don't understand the sudden interest in me."

Cam smiled at her. "Maybe I've always been interested, Dylan. Ever think of that?"

He was oddly disappointed when her face didn't flush at his bold comment, but pushed it aside as soon as the feeling unearthed itself. Silly. He was here under friendly circumstances, not romantic—even though every time she diverted his attention to her lips, he could feel them beneath his as if they were there at the moment and not a ghost of a memory in his mind.

_Friendly_.

"Doubtful," she returned, gaze still guarded, but mouth forming that of an easy smirk. "But if you're so curious, would you like me to start at the beginning of my troubled life? I'll tell you all the scandals about my birth."

He laughed, drumming his fingers against the table. "I don't see why not. I've got all the time in the world."

.

.

.

A sore neck and cramp overtaking her body was not what Kristen expected when she woke several hours later. Her mouth opened wide to let out a loud yawn she didn't try to hide, exhaustion still heavy in her system. With a mind still foggy and limbs still numb, she almost forgot where she was. More importantly, she almost forgot the reason why she was there.

The clock above the television read a quarter past ten in the morning, Massie's armchair was uncomfortable, and her body ached because of brutality, not a compromising position. Despite the quick work of her friends, they hadn't been able to clean her up completely, though her cuts and scrapes were disinfected so well she couldn't notice their sting, just the bandages covering them. Her nose felt as if it were consistently getting punched even though she had been up for no longer than seven minutes. Her jaw was extremely tender, her head hurting more than she would ever let on. Trying to pull herself into a more acceptable seating arrangement took more willpower than necessary, her knee straining under the pressure. Even tentatively putting her foot to the ground caused a twinge in her ankle. She was spent and she had done nothing but try to stretch.

She knew better than anyone the repercussions of the soccer team's actions. Hotchkiss had played dirty, no doubt, but Briarwood had been given strict orders to remain clean. With the disqualification looming over them like a storm cloud and a golden trophy out of their grasp, it was a matter of days—hours, actually, seeing that is was Sunday—before the sky opened up and let loose a downpour. They were warned of this, not necessarily the boys, but the girls, and Dean Don would not be thrilled. He expected nothing less than a rule-abiding student body and in a matter of months, he was starting to lose his hold on that: A fight in the hall, a brawl on the field. There was hostility in the air, a foreboding sense of deterioration with a similarity in each situation.

A girl.

Flashback to the first day of school, an overenthusiastic secretary, a tense confrontation with a friend, and a meeting in the office of a very proud, very intimidating man of authority… _"I don't want any disruptions. We're a school that prides itself on good grades and excellent sports teams. I expect you to help us keep that image, not bring it down."_

One slip-up could be overlooked. They hadn't harmed the "excellent sport team" that much in the hall. In fact, they had done something no other school had before—they brought a girl onto a boys' team and made everyone look their way. All eyes on them was just the publicity their school needed; it was nothing to be punished for.

Taking away a championship win that was so rightfully theirs, for nothing other than a _disqualification_, was. And she had been in the thick of it all. Her pride and her body sure reminded her of that. They were all in for it. Kristen more so than the others. Maybe even the entire Pretty Committee. The stories were already out—Hotchkiss' editing team even wrote the same thing. The fight started because of a comment aimed at her.

It didn't matter that the coaches turned a blind eye, that the referees were just as slimy as the players, or that Briarwood was missing their star goalie. What mattered was her. What mattered was Kemp. What mattered was the first punch, the reason for it, and how the dominoes all fell after.

_She_ was the star of a movie she didn't want a role in.

"Crap," she muttered, already envisioning the second expulsion on her permanent record; surely no one would want her after _that_ and no college would accept her with a tarnished background like this. She was as good as a dead—worse, even, if she was forced to work in the fast food industry.

The very thought—not pursuing something of substance, not being _able_ to—made her shudder. It felt as if a hammer were being bashed repeatedly into the back of her head and she pulled at the blanket she was swathed in, trying to free herself for a glass of ice water.

Her first expression was that of absolute pain. Her teeth gritted together when she pushed herself onto the floor, momentarily forgetting the state of her ankle, and she gripped the side of the chair, squeezing with all of her strength. It did nothing to alleviate the agony.

The second overrode the first, her features still red, teeth still pressed into lips, but her eyebrows were drawn together. Almost in a heap on the floor were Massie and Derrick, tangled up in each other; it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. The blankets were discarded off to the side though it hardly looked like they were cold. Her head was buried into his chest, his one arm draped over her, keeping her as close as humanly possible.

This sight was enough to keep Kristen's attention off her injury long enough for the pain to subside into that of an unpleasant sting. She had no idea how or when they happened—or if it even was a thing to begin with—but she wasn't about to figure it out now. She'd see what happened when they woke.

She limped over to the kitchen, making sure to drag her lame leg the entire way. It didn't feel broken, that was for sure. She had experienced that before. Probably bruised, if she had to guess. Maybe a fracture. She'd most likely live to see another day.

It took ten times longer than she liked to get to the doorway and by that time, she was even more tired than she already was.

Leaning her side against the wall, she took a deep breath, pushing the hair out of her face. She could only imagine what she looked like, especially given the company, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"Hungry, Kris?"

The blond started, heartbeat increasing in speed at the sudden voice. _Who—_

But instead of letting her mind wander, she merely shook her head, squinting. "Yeah, I…" she trailed off, suddenly confused. "Didn't know you could cook."

Alicia shrugged, almost bashful. "My only expertise is eggs and pancakes and pancakes are the only food lately that _doesn't_ make me want to vom, so."

"Well, I'm down to eat. Shouldn't we wait for those guys?" Kristen stuck her thumb out behind her.

"If we do, I think I might starve," her friend replied. "I've been up since eight. Morning sickness and all. Y'all didn't budge for hours. Surprised you're up, actually."

Kristen stumbled into a barstool, abandoning her initial quest. "Me too." She rubbed at her elbow. "Guess I only need, like, two hours of sleep to function."

"More like seven, smartypants," Alicia teased, flipping a spatula.

"Feels like two," Kristen moaned, dropping her head into her arms. "But if you've been up so long, did you see—"

"Massie and Derrick?" the Latina interrupted. Even though her back was to her, Kristen could practically see her playful grin. "Yeah. Even watched Mass roll away and Derrick pull her back. They're nauseating."

"Not as awful as you and Plov…Chris. Speaking of _that_ boy… what's goin' on there?"

Alicia was silent for a moment or two, scraping the rest of the batter onto the skillet. Kristen watched her idly, ripping a napkin into tiny pieces as the delicious aroma of chocolate chip pancakes consumed her.

"He's nice," she finally said. "I can't really tell you what's going on since I don't know to begin with, but… _he's nice_."

"So, you're genuine, huh?"

The pan sizzled when it was hit with cold water in the sink. Alicia puttered around, pulling a few more plates out of the cabinet, distributing three pancakes to each before answering with a quick, "Yeah."

"He's always been a sweet guy," Kristen supplied, sprinkling confectionary sugar onto her food. "I think he'll be good for you."

Alicia smiled shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "He already is."

The blond giggled at her, dicing up her breakfast. "Already lovestruck?"

"Shut up," the other shot back, her plate smothered in maple syrup. "I'm actually… I wouldn't say _happy_ because, well—" She sighed, glaring down at her stomach, "—but he kind of makes me forget. Even if it's for a little while."

"That's great, Leesh," Kristen spoke around a mouthful, "really."

"Yeah," Alicia agreed. "What about you? How are you since the whole… yesterday?"

Her battle wounds, if you will, tingled at the mention of the game and Kristen seemed to deflat, pushing the fluffy cakes—which were good, she'd have to tell Alicia later—around Massie's china. How did she feel about yesterday? She already thought too much about it earlier, when she was stuck in that chair, but was she going to say all that to her friend? Maybe Alicia didn't see it that way. Maybe she was overreacting. Dean Don would understand… maybe.

"It sucks for the soccer team," she began slowly. "I mean, this would've been, like, the third championship in a row and that's impressive. It also sucks for me because I can't see to get rid of the dirt taste in my mouth. But… what do you think's going to happen when we go to school tomorrow?"

Alicia nibbled her bottom lip, cocking her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Like… are we going to get in trouble? Dean Don said he didn't want us to—cause trouble, I guess, and I feel like that's all we've been doing."

"He can't possibly blame this on us." Alicia frowned. "How were you to know Hotchkiss would call you a slut?"

"I couldn't, but maybe I could've predicted Kemp's reaction." Kristen shrugged, stabbing her plate. The sound the metal made against it should've worried her; what if she broke it? How would she explain _that_ to Massie? But she couldn't bring herself to care. "We're friends after all."

"Kemp starting the fight was _not_ your fault, Kris." Alicia spoke fiercely, putting her fork down, and grabbed her hand across the table. "No one could have expected that. People have shit talked all of his friends to his face and he's never done anything about it before. You couldn't have seen that coming."

"They're going to blame me. There are people who didn't want me on the team in the first place…"

"Let them blame you then," Alicia advised. "You deserved to be on that team and what happened last night isn't because of you. They can believe what they want, but what's most important is that _you_ know the truth. Kemp's your friend and he defended you. The rest of the guys defended you, too, and that's all that matters. What comes after it is miniscule in comparison."

"You think?"

"I _know_." Alicia smiled, a slight twitch of the lips that had Kristen's entire body warming. It felt good to see the girl look like that again after all the crying and frowning she did the day before. It almost gave her hope. "At OCD, we let people think what they wanted about us and that never bothered us a bit. It shouldn't bother us now."

Kristen squeezed her hand, feeling a little bit less stressed, her muscles not as tense as before. "I guess it's just different because of where we are. Girls pretended they liked us and we knew they didn't, but we brushed it off. Boys don't do that. Or… these boys don't and it's harder to ignore when they're so open about it."

"I know," Alicia nodded, "but that's life, right? If there's something I learned from all of this crap, it's that we can't help who likes us and who doesn't. We just gotta keep moving. Nothing matters more than us and the people we care most about. There's no use getting upset over things and people who aren't important."

Kristen looked at her as if she had never seen Alicia before in her life. And in a sense, she hadn't. Before her was a girl who looked and sounded and smelled just like her best friend, but in her place was someone completely different. The Ralph Lauren-loving, boy-obsessed, power-crazed teenager she knew was gone, replaced by… this. It was hard to explain exactly what changed; there was more of an open mind here, and a thought process before she opened her mouth to talk. It wasn't anything Kristen ever expected from her, but that didn't mean it wasn't welcome.

"When did you get so smart?"

"I'll let you know the moment I figure it out."

.

.

.

The mattress creaked with every sudden movement, a loud, obnoxious sound that was sure to reverberate through the entire house. It was as quiet as Sundays come, and Claire _should_ be downstairs, just waking up enough to catch up on all the shows she missed during the week, text her friends, and ignore the pile of homework the teachers at Briarwood unkindly gave her. Instead, she had woken at an ungodly hour, thanks to her father, who had no doubt gone out to some stupid—in his words, "_important_"—breakfast meeting when he knocked on her door as he passed.

He was an asshole and she hated him.

Wide awake and pissed, she had a lot of time to think about how unreasonable this punishment was. It hadn't even been two whole days, but she was miserable, and she still didn't see what she did wrong. Her father had done nothing but tell her how he wished she would experiment in high school rather than college, where she knew the people she was lowering her inhibitions around. And, really, that's exactly what she did, right? She knew Skye. She knew Deena, and Sam, and Heidi. She knew her brother wouldn't rat her out if it came down to it and her father would take care of her if it got that bad. She was only respecting him. There was no reason for her to be locked in her room like this.

She had done all of this angry pondering while she stared at her ceiling, permanent scowl on her face, and arms crossed. It was then that she noticed the stars up there, blue and green and white.

Claire and her parents had stuck them there when she first moved into the guesthouse. At the time, it had seemed quirky and cute, which was what she had been at the tender age of fourteen, but now it seemed childish and stupid. In fact, their presence angered her, only reminding her of the times she had spent in this room with Massie, the Pretty Committee, and Cam.

She wasn't scared of the dark. They didn't need to be there.

And that was how she found herself, with wild hair and nothing but ill will to all, jumping up and down on her bed, fingers brushing against the ceiling, tearing down glow-in-the-dark stick-ons and white paint.

They littered the floor and her comforter, the tape that kept them secure still doing its job. She tried to take everything down, but she couldn't get a good enough hold in the few seconds she was suspended in the air. It infuriated her to no end, more than anything else seemed to—or maybe she was channeling all her anger into the decals in her room—and she wanted to take it all down; she wanted to rip apart the theme she had thought was nice—space and stars and galaxies—because it was all too ridiculous.

It defined Claire Lyons as a wide-eyed girl from Florida, one who thought she could swoop in at the beginning of high school and make friends, seeing the transition as the perfect time for niceties. It tugged at her stomach, pulling it to her feet, because it was just as naïve as she was now that she knew what Westchester held. There were no Saris or Mandys, no simple-minded people from middle school. There were Massies and Alicias, teenagers who were entitled and bitchy and rude, that lied to make her comfortable, just to pull the rug out from under her when they were bored and in need of a good laugh.

She needed something more than a funky bedspread. She needed a loveseat and a flat screen. An all-white room or a chic Disney-inspired paint job with throw pillows and reading nooks and canopy beds.

This wasn't going to cut it. The light up star stickers were laughable and she was surprised Skye and her new friends hadn't mentioned them yet. Or maybe they had, behind her back, which wouldn't be surprising. She had to get rid of them. Start over. Prove everyone wrong and—

"_What_ are you doing?"

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" spat Claire, continuing to jump up and down even though they were no more stars in her reach.

"Having a temper tantrum," her father replied easily and his simple tone only fueled her hatred, "which I thought you had outgrown by the age of six, but I guess we're all wrong sometimes."

Claire balled up her fists, feet sinking into the mattress. "I don't understand what you're trying to accomplish," she returned. "Do you like to belittle me, is that it? Do you like to treat me like I'm a child?"

"I don't like to do any of that, Claire, but I have no choice when you act like it."

"I'm _not_—!"

"You are." She heard him step into the room but she refused to turn around. "You're being snotty and impolite just because I'm punishing you for doing something that might've ruined your life. I'm doing this for your own good."

She rolled her eyes. "My own good, Dad?" she repeated bitterly. "Locking me up in my room, keeping me away from my friends—all of that is for my own good? _Right_."

"Those girls are no good for you, Claire. Can't you see that?"

"_No_," she snapped. "They're my _friends_. They care about me and _you're_ the only thing here that's no good for me."

Jay sighed as if he were dealing with an ill-tempered kid, which he _so_ wasn't. "I'm sorry I don't want to see my only daughter in a body bag before she graduates high school."

"As if," Claire waved the thought off. "Like that'll ever happen."

"Claire…"

"I'm not doing anything that will put my life in jeopardy!" she all but shrieked, glaring out the window. "You're overreacting! You were a teenager once too."

"Yes. I was." He paused and Claire almost thought he left until he opened his mouth again. "I was a teenager who woke up one morning to find out one of his best friends overdosed." Her dad put his hand on his shoulder like his pain was enough to make her stop being so mad at him. It definitely wasn't. "I don't want the same to happen to you."

She shrugged him off. "It's just something to take the edge off, to help us let loose and have fun," she explained matter-of-factly. It was almost as if there wasn't a time when she was wary of the little pills she now downed without a second thought. She was even _embarrassed_ of the girl she was. "There's nothing wrong or dangerous with it and I'd like for you to get off my back for once."

"You've been acting out ever since your mother left."

"You've actually paid enough attention to me to notice? _Wow_."

"And I've been trying to handle it the best I can, but I just can't get you to see reason," he went on, ignoring her burst of sarcasm. "There's only one way for me to get it through your head that what you're doing is, in fact, completely dangerous, Claire, and I was hoping it wouldn't come down to that, but you proved to me that it will have to."

"Shoot," she challenged, setting her jaw even though he couldn't see her. "Nothing could be worse than this is."

She figured he'd threaten to take her cell phone off the plan, or get rid of her laptop, or maybe even childproof the entire house just to humiliate her. But for those, there were quick solutions. She could buy a go-phone—not so fun and cool, but necessary for calling and texting—or actually spend some time at the library, where there were computers at her every disposal. And if he tried to lock up the house like she was two, she'd find a way around it. She was fifteen after all.

The punishment that came out of his mouth, however, was none of those. It was ten times worse.

"I'm sending you to live with your grandparents in North Carolina."

Claire spun around wildly, almost losing her balance, eyes wide, jaw hanging. She gripped her headboard with a tight hand. "You're _what_?" She must've heard wrong. He couldn't have said...

"Westchester is all wrong for you. Your mother was right about that," Jay told her, gaze stern. "This wouldn't have happened in Florida—"

"—and it's _your_ fault we're not there anymore—"

"—and it won't happen when you're living with them. They will take care of you as you get yourself cleaned up and then maybe you'll be able to come back here. As of right now, I don't see that in your immediate future."

Claire opened her mouth to speak, but he forged on, words harsher than anything she had ever heard before. She wanted to scream.

"They know exactly what you've been doing, too, so don't try to tell them otherwise. They're going to enroll you in the public school in their neighborhood."

She struggled to find something to say, anything that would make some sort of difference in the matter. "I… I—_I hate you_," she spat out, fighting the onslaught of furious tears rising in her eyes. _Don't cry, don't cry- it's not worth it._

Jay only shook his head, albeit a little sadly, and turned on his heel. "I'm sorry you feel that way."

"You're ruining my life!" she accused him, wanting him to hurt, to change his mind, to _keep_ her here, but it didn't seem to matter what she said. He didn't waver.

"That's where you're wrong, Claire," were his last words before he disappeared, "I'm trying to save it."

Once he was gone, she collapsed on to her bed, lying amongst the glowing stars. She gritted her teeth, willed herself to _remain calm, Claire, there is a way out of this_, but even then, she couldn't stop that lone miserable sob from racking her body.

_Don't cry, don't cry-_

She did.

.

.

.

Thumbing a frantic to text to both Kristen and Cam, math whizzes in their own right, about the vicious packet he had for geometry, Kemp slumped in his desk chair, feeling more physically drained than ever. He blamed it on his lack of academic skills (mainly in the math and science department) but he knew it was more the fault of his numerous bruises… and the potential concussion he wasn't sure he had.

He Googled it, though, and ended up coming to terms with the fact that he had cancer and probably five days to live, not a head problem, and should probably see a _real_ doctor and not diagnose himself.

Sighing, he brushed the hair out of his face, steeled himself, and looked down at the problems before him. He could do this. All he needed was to plug numbers into the formulas and—there was an answer somewhere, he knew it. He paid attention in class. All he had to do was put four in there, and seven over x in that spot...

"_Fuck_," he muttered, flinging his pencil against the wall. It pierced a hole in his calendar of scantily clad women, something that should have bothered him profusely. It _was_ his favorite thing in the room, after all. Instead, he only glared moodily at the mark, not caring that it ruined the only model that managed to capture his attention for longer than two seconds. "Whatever."

He shoved his chair back, got to his feet, and flung his bedroom door open. He wasn't getting any homework done, he wasn't going to sleep—he had cancer or a concussion or maybe even a rare strain of the flu that would take his life—and his friends weren't answering his text as quickly as he would like.

He needed ice on his face and he needed it now, preferably before he exploded from the annoying sting.

Stumbling down the stairs was a feat in itself, seeing as he was hardly looking where he was going, and almost fell flat on his ass at least twice. _Perfect._

Eventually, though, he got to the kitchen, where the overwhelmingly pleasant aroma of cinnamon and cookie dough filled his nostrils. Kemp froze in the doorway, watching his mother amble around, a bowl of something sitting on the counter, the oven heating up.

"They're snickerdoodles," she told him, that motherly sense of knowing exactly where her child was startling him, "and I could really use some help if you'd like."

Kemp was about to decline hastily because, really, he wasn't down here to bake cookies like some five year old that needed to hold his mother's hand when he crossed the street, but the words didn't come out of his mouth. He stood there, gaping like that of a fish out of water, until he swallowed and blurted, "Yeah."

Kathleen Hurley looked up from the sink, her mouth smiling, but her eyes the complete opposite. The light color so like his was darker than he remembered—when was the last time he looked at her?—and there was this glint of something he couldn't place as she surveyed his face. He felt uncomfortable under her gaze, shifting awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to cover his eyes, his nose, his mouth. He didn't try, though; she saw them all.

"Roll the dough into balls for me, about an inch, and then in the cinnamon mixture."

Kemp nodded, frowning as he sat down. She said nothing about the state of his body and for some reason that bothered him. He knew it shouldn't, not really. He wasn't a little kid anymore; he had literally thought that not ten minutes ago, but he guessed maybe he _wanted_ someone to coddle him. Someone other than Alicia and Massie, who were great and completely selfless as of late…but not enough.

He wanted his mom to stop what she was doing and care, like she used to when he was in kindergarten and elementary school. He wanted band-aids over his scraped knees and ice cream when he was upset, but he wasn't about to tell her when he felt that way. He was a boy, a _man_, and they weren't supposed to deal with petty things like emotions. They weren't supposed to be weak.

But here he was, rolling balls and sprinkling them with god knows what, putting them on cookie sheets to bake in the oven. He was acting like a girl. Worse, even. He was acting like _Derrick_, who completely melted whenever his mom asked him to do something. Kemp would probably do whatever Candace asked because she was hot, but still. It was completely lame.

The silence was unnerving, to say the least. It kept reminding Kemp he had no idea why he was sitting there. He didn't do these kinds of things. He appeared when things needed to be tasted or eaten, but never cooked. In fact, he didn't even know how to make the simplest of meals. He'd probably burn toast.

Water ran from the faucet. He could hear his mother as she scrubbed at their silverware. Mouth in a tight line, he continued his task until there was no room left on the sheet, and he hastily wiped his hands on a towel lying near him.

Time to go—

"Does your eye hurt?" Kathleen asked.

"Um. A little," he answered, trying to mask his shock. He wasn't expecting her to notice. He was lying, too, but she would never know just how much it actually did bother him. The area around his eye felt like it was pulsing, almost like one of those terrible headaches he got when he had a fever.

"It's yellowing," she told him, scurrying over to his side. A wet compress was placed on his face, ice cold against his hot skin. "What happened last night?"

Kemp stayed quiet, almost tongue-tied. The way his mother was holding the towel was gentle and maternal, and he didn't want to go into detail. He didn't want her to know just how much of a screw-up everyone thought he was. He could handle it. He could _fix_ it. He didn't need her help.

Despite his inspiring thoughts, his resolve broke the moment he met her gaze. It was that weird look he accustomed with all mothers—they could look at you one way and suddenly everything felt safe and warm and _peaceful_—and he had been hoping he could avoid the strength of it seeing as he only had one good eye at the moment.

Yeah, no.

He blurted to her everything, from the betrayal he felt when Derrick walked out to the "slut" comment that Hotchkiss bastard threw. He recalled just how the dirt tasted when he was thrown to the ground, how he was pissed beyond belief that they pulled Kristen into the middle of it, how Danny fucking Robbins _laughed_ before he jumped into the fray, probably loving the fact that the girl he himself had thrown punch after punch at was causing more trouble. He explained the pain that he felt in his head, how he was positive he probably broke a few ribs, and how his friends took care of him, bandaging up his wounds, when they didn't necessarily have to.

And when he was done, breathless and exhausted, his mother said one thing and one thing only: "You don't have to be a hero."

He had no idea what _that_ was supposed to mean. Hero? He wasn't… He wasn't trying to save anyone, if that's what she thought; he was angry more often than not and it always got a little out of hand. That was all. It wasn't like it was deliberate.

If that's what his mother thought—did everyone else?

_Shit_.

"I'm not," he told her, because he had to start somewhere. If he could prove to his mother that he wasn't, he could with everyone else.

"That story is not much to go by, but you act like you have to protect everyone." She was over by the stove now, her back to him. "You don't, Kemp."

He frowned. "I'm not _protecting_ anyone. I'm just…"

"Starting fights because some kid who isn't worth it insulted your friend?"

"You don't get it, Mom," he insisted. "Kristen didn't deserve that and I wasn't going to let him just get away with it."

"I'm sure she didn't, baby, but I'm also sure she could have handled it."

"What are you trying to say?" he demanded. "That it's my fault we were disqualified? That I overreacted?"

"Of course not," she replied, but Kemp had a feeling she was lying. "I'm just saying… you're sweet, Kemp, but that doesn't mean you have to go above and beyond, you know?"

He blinked, digging his fingers into the table. "No, I don't think I do."

But he did. He knew far too well just what she was trying to say to him. He wished she would just come out and say it, no matter how harsh it sounded, but he knew that she wouldn't. His mother would never go out of her way to tell him things that might hurt even though it was the best way to go about it.

And even though he tried to pretend she didn't care, she did, and she knew him almost better than he knew himself. She was only looking out for him, only trying to help him figure everything out before he ruined it all. Maybe he was acting this way because he was trying to remind his friends he was there. He didn't have the same bonds Massie and Josh did, or even Alicia and Derrick. It wasn't like he could find someone to rely on like they did. Whenever things got bad, they were there for each other without a second thought.

Dylan hated him. Kristen didn't exactly need someone to tell her everything was going to be alright. She was stronger than that. He learned all about her when she stayed at his house after Danny pounded her straight into Tuesday.

His friends were all wrapped up in each other that sometimes they didn't notice him. He was there, but he wasn't, and it was probably the worst feeling in the world. He made up for it—for the inexplicable loneliness he pretended didn't suffocate him—by throwing himself out there more than he should.

James Ridder sucked, and so did his minions, but he didn't have to stand bodyguard to Josh. He could've beat the shit out Hotchkiss after the game. All the things he did were embarrassing, to say the least, and he went through with them just to get that little extra attention. And he got it… but did he deserve it? Was it even really worth it? Was it _positive_ attention or were they just giving it to him because they were afraid he'd act out again?

What was he doing?

Kathleen smiled at him. It was a little sad, but he didn't care; someone was noticing him right in his very moment and he hadn't done anything outrageous for this attention. It almost didn't matter that it was his mother. _Almost_.

"You're smarter than that," she murmured, "just think about it, okay?"

"Yeah. I will." He nodded, hopping out of his seat. "Let me know if you need any more help with the cookies."


	41. forty

**A/N**- Let me tell you how hard college is during your sophomore year: I'm always studying, or I'm always at work, or I'm always asleep. I'm constantly tired and constantly behind in _something_. And to top it all off, I'm having the worst roommate problems in the world. I was so excited to go home this break, you have no idea. And I got to see One Direction when they were on Good Morning America so that also made things a bit more bearable.

I hope you didn't forget about me and if you did, that's fine. I've been scatterbrained for months. This will be horrendous; I know that much- I'm rusty as all hell.

Note: I didn't look over this very much. Sorry for all errors xx

* * *

><p><strong>Previously:<strong> Massie was together with Cam, but now they're not because it's obvious she has a thing for Derrick, even though she told him she was scared of him. Cam kissed Dylan at a party even though he was with Massie at the time (but don't worry about that; Massie was getting very well acquainted with Derrick then). Danny Robbins took Alicia's virginity and left her with a child and Plovert has made it his mission in life to make her happy. Dylan and Alicia had a blowout over the whole thing because Dylan was misinformed and a little upset about how everyone is forgiving the boys even though they were awful to them over the summer. Kristen joined the Tomahawks after Plovert was kicked off the team, but they lost the championship game anyway because a Hotchkiss boy called Kristen a slut and Kemp punched him in the eye.

* * *

><p>It was the only sound on her phone that could wake her up- the most annoying series of beeps in a loud crescendo- and whenever it went off (which was at exactly 6:05 in the morning) it woke her instantly. Nothing was out of place that Monday when it sounded- Massie awoke, the alarm loud and irritating, and scrambled to find where her phone was placed on her bed. Most of the time, it was stationed beneath her pillow; that way there was no way she'd accidentally sleep through it.<p>

What really confused her, a few minutes after she realized it wasn't in her pillowcase, was the warm weight on her stomach and the deep, sleepy voice next to her that rumbled, "Can you _please_ turn that off?"

"I- uh-" Massie stammered, her heart pounding wildly against her ribcage. "I-I would, but I don't know where it is exactly."

"That's because I'm lying on it." She could hear the amusement in her companion's voice, but she was still trying to handle the fact that he was _in_ her bed_ with_ her.

At least he couldn't see her face; she hid it in her pillow the second he spoke.

The sound ceased and she felt him settle back into her bed, the weight on her body remaining exactly where it was.

With a deep breath she hoped came off as more of a sigh, she cracked her eyes open again, looking over herself as if she woke up after a drunken night out. Her schoolbooks were on the floor- her copy of Shakespearian plays and sonnets crumpled underneath her notebook, which was still open to the essay she was working on for English- and her clothes were, thankfully, still intact. Except she lost a sock.

Derrick's arm was thrown carelessly over her middle, still tanned to perfection from the summer. She admired it for a second, noticing the muscles she fawned over in the privacy of her bedroom earlier in the year seemed bigger.

She spent a while looking at this arm of his, catching herself before she let her fingers brush over his skin, before she kicked her blanket off her legs and slipped out from underneath him.

Or _attempted_ to.

Just as her toes were about to make contact with her rug, she was pulled back onto her mattress- by two arms this time.

"Where are you going?" he asked breathlessly, hovering over her.

"The bathroom?" she responded, the statement sounding more like a question. "You remember school, right?"

Derrick rolled his eyes, a tiny smile playing on his pink lips. His hair was in disarray from the way he slept, the light curls falling into his face. One side of his face was still pink from all the weight he had put on it. Massie was fascinated by the way he looked- all sleepy and bright-eyed and the prettiest thing she had ever seen.

She self-consciously ran her tongue over her teeth. She probably looked like a monster. Or like she got run over by a train. Nothing like he did, of course.

"Let's stay home," he suggested.

Massie was so captivated by Derrick's appearance- her attention on the splash of permanent freckles on the bridge of his nose, but mostly on the way his lips looked so full and if she craned her neck up _just _a little, she could kiss them- she almost missed the meaning behind his words and just agreed with him.

"We can't just _skip_ school, Derrick."

"Yes we can. I don't even have my uniform."

"Couldn't you just ask-"

"Nope."

"Well, you can stay home. I'll go."

"But I wanna stay home with yoooou," he whined and Massie's heart jumped at his proclamation.

Staying home with him meant a lot of things she didn't want to face just yet. She always wanted a few hours to herself to think things over; that's what school was for. Even though it was only about three classes she had without him and her friends, it was enough to wrap her head around almost everything plaguing her mind. Like… were they going to pretend she hadn't told him he broke her heart? Was he ever going to tell her why he dumped her? Was this weekend even a thing anymore? And the biggest question: Despite all he did and the fact that she mentioned it out loud for the first time in, like, _ever_, why was she still wildly attracted to him?

She didn't think she could talk to him about it if he brought it up, but the way he was looking at her made her realize he didn't want to either. He had spent a majority of Saturday night apologizing before they both eventually passed out and he even bought her coffee at Starbucks when she dragged him to the mall the next day. She couldn't tell who was more upset about it- her or him.

"I don't know…" she mumbled, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

Derrick watched her idly, blinking down at her with an expression she couldn't place. "Come on," he urged, "I know you want to."

"Yes, but-"

"No buts!" he exclaimed, all but collapsing on top of her. "We're staying home."

"I don't think-"

"Shh…" he whispered, tucking his head underneath her chin. "Don't think. Just stay home."

Massie snorted. "You're five years old."

"Whatever you say," he replied, pressing his mouth against her collarbone in a chaste kiss that still somehow made Massie clench her toes. "But I'm not of much use as a five year old, so I don't know what you're getting out of this… unless you thrive on making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches."

"I make very good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, thank you very much," she retorted, "and you're not gonna get one for that comment."

Derrick chuckled, his chest rumbling against hers. "I think you'll make me one anyway."

"You do?"

"Mhm."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because," he murmured thoughtfully, lifting his head to kiss the corner of her mouth this time. His eyes twinkled at her for the briefest of moments and then he was situating himself on top of her again, blonde hair safely tucked under her chin, silent.

.

.

.

"_Kristen Gregory to the dean's office, Kristen Gregory to the dean's office—_"

If they weren't looking at her bruises and scrapes, they were definitely looking at her now. Kristen swallowed, shoving her books into her bag in a very clumsy fashion. Her pen rolled off her desk and took refuge on the tile, stopping only when Josh stuck his foot out. She snatched it up without looking at him, her fingers shaking, and slung her bag over her shoulder.

She was out of the room at the speed of light, ignoring the concerned looks Kemp and Josh shot at her. The door slammed shut when she was halfway down the hall.

Once she was far enough away from the room- just in case anyone was looking at- Kristen slumped against the wall of lockers, tugging at her plaited hair.

She had been expecting it, yes, but she really didn't want to go. She didn't want to face Dean Don because she was the reason for the soccer team's spiral into disaster. She didn't want to have to face Coach Harrington and have him yell at her for ruining his winning team. She didn't need the two of them (and whoever else they decided to bring along for the ride) there to tell her everything she already knew about herself.

It would come down to them telling her she and her friends didn't belong here, that it was stupid of the board to let them attend in the first place. She could only hope she was able to put up a good enough argument to keep _them_ there and have Dean Don expel only her.

She felt as if she were walking to her death and the moment she stepped foot in the main office, her heart seemed to stop.

There was no way she was going to survive a second expulsion. It was a miracle she got to live after the first one, and that was only because she was attending yet another impressive school on a scholarship. The second her parents had to pay a single penny, she would be dead… or attending Abner Double Day. Which, to be completely honest, was the equivalent of the word 'dead'.

In fact, there had to be a way to kill herself before she got to Dean Don. There were plenty of sharp objects on the way there; she could ram into a desk corner until she caused internal bleeding and hope it worked quickly, or she could stab herself with the scissors over there, or she could slam her head into that wall until she broke it in half- or, you know, she could just knock on Dean Don's door and walk right into his office completely unscathed.

It was nice to know her body didn't listen to her mind at all. Really nice.

The office looked exactly like it did the first time she was in there. It looked as if Dean Don hadn't even made a dent in his paperwork and the wall behind him was still full of articles regarding Briarwood's academic and athletic achievements.

There should have been a new one there, cut out recently from today's paper, but it was all Kristen's fault the Tomahawks didn't come back from the championship with a trophy.

The principal looked up at her, smiling warmly. "How are you, Kristen? Please sit."

Kristen forced the corners of her lips to turn up amicably though she felt as if she were grimacing. "I'm well… how are you?"

"I'm feeling very fine today," he replied, gesturing wildly for her to sit. She practically fell into the seat in front of his desk, crossing her legs at the ankles. "I hope I didn't take you out of class at an important time."

"No," she told him, struggling to keep her hands from playing with her hair, something she did often when she was nervous. "We were just going over the homework. Nothing too big."

"Still- I apologize for taking you away from that." Kristen didn't respond to his apology; it didn't seem like he was all that regretful. "I bet you're wondering why I called you here."

She breathed deeply through her nose. "I have some idea… The soccer game, right?"

Dean Don's lips were pressed into a line when he nodded. "Exactly that. I wasn't there personally- I'm sorry, I do like to attend all of the Tomahawks' games, but I had a prior engagement- but I was told recently of the events that occurred that night. Might I ask how you're faring?"

A little shell-shocked, Kristen nodded. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, confusion running through her veins faster than her blood was. Would a person expelling her ask about her wellbeing before kicking her out of school? Principal Burns did no such thing…

But still, she responded. It would be rude not to and he would have another reason to add to the long list he already had. "I've been better, of course, but I'm alright, if that counts."

"I'm glad to hear that, Kristen. I'm sorry Hotchkiss didn't tolerate your being on the team."

"I asked to be treated just like a player on the team, nothing else. I didn't expect any special treatment and I was warned Hotchkiss would play dirty. It was the championship, I was ready for everything." Kristen wet her drying lips, unable to control her fingers as they wrung themselves together. "I just wish it hadn't gotten to the point of public brawl, that's all."

Dean Don clasped his hands in front of him. "Yes, but even the boys deserve not to be attacked for anything they do and almost all of them wanted you on their team. They thought you were capable enough to play with them and that in itself pleases me more than a trophy would."

"What?"

"The fight might have been started by a comment directed towards you- a comment that rewarded Hotchkiss with bad sportsmanship- but it was not at all your fault. Quite frankly, I'm proud of Mr. Hurley for standing up for you. For the _team_."

Kristen couldn't help her eyebrows as they furrowed together, etching her misunderstanding clear as day on her face. He was proud of the fight? Of their loss? Of Kristen, even though it was her fault? This was definitely _not_ how expulsions went. He needed some help in that department.

"You're proud of a fight that cost you the championship?"

"I know it sounds crazy, Kristen, but yes," Dean Don told her with a hard stare. "What I appreciate the most out of this whole thing is what's come from it. An entire group of boys who think they run the school and are the best of the best allowed you- some even begged for me to consider-"

"Who?" she interrupted.

"Chris Plovert, I believe, and then Derrick Harrington came by shortly after."

Kristen didn't know that.

"Yes, well, they let you on the team, they _wanted_ you on the team. And they treated you like you belonged there, not like they pitied you. You were just another teammate, an incredibly talented member of the Varsity soccer team. I don't know what you did to that team, Kristen, but about half of them stopped walking around like their- and please excuse my language here; there really is no other way to say this- like their shit don't stink and I think it's because you are so humbling and down to earth."

Yup, not the same technique Principal Burns used. Maybe he was buttering her up. Like a turkey for dinner or something.

Dean Don didn't seem to notice her hesitation, but if he did, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he plowed on: "And you didn't just affect that team, dear. There are three schools that I know of that have contacted me to say they've allowed girls on the boys' teams." He gestured to a couple of new frames on his wall. "You've given high school girls a chance to be on teams that may actually spur on their athletic careers in the future. It's really a shame to know the girls aren't as successful or revered as the boys are and allowing you on the team has given more girls the courage to ask to be the team they really want to be on: the one that gets the crowds, the cheers, and the awards."

"Wouldn't that be your achievement?" she questioned, trying to decipher the headlines of the new articles from her seat. She was too far to make anything legible out.

"Go up and look at them," he offered, noticing her struggle. "And I suppose it's both of ours, if we have to give it to someone. You wanted to continue to play soccer and I wasn't going to stop you."

Kristen got up from her seat, smoothing out her skirt as she walked around the desk. Dean Don continued to speak to her of the successes of her being on the team, but they went right over her head as she skimmed the clippings.

_Tomahawks welcome Kristen Gregory as midfield…_

_Gregory continues to shine after taking Plovert's place…_

_Maria Lifson joins football team – "Kristen Gregory is my inspiration"_

_Kristen Gregory paves the way for girls to join the teams of their counterparts _

"_If it weren't for Kristen Gregory, I wouldn't be here," says Hannah Ryan, 15_

"These… these… they're real?" she stammered, her fingers pressing against the glass protecting the paper from her. Her fingerprints would stain it, of course, but she didn't care. Her heart was skipping beats left and right.

"Completely authentic," he replied. She could hear the smile in his voice. No matter how proud he felt, there was nothing that could fight the feeling that was spreading through her entire body. She was warm all over; she could feel it travel through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her eyes were even starting to prickle- she had no idea she had made this much of an impact at all.

She didn't know anybody cared in the slightest, if she were being honest.

"So you're not expelling me?" she demanded, whirling around. Her voice wasn't as strong as she wanted it to be, shaking on the last word. Those articles and the people in them- Hannah, Maria- were all so touching.

A shocked expression graced Dean Don's features. "Expel you? Why would you think I would do that?"

"It's just… I- the soccer game… my fault-"

"No, no, _no_, Kristen. I wanted to see how you were. I wanted to make sure you knew it wasn't your fault. I'm sure the soccer team told you that, but I wanted to reassure it. You're not going anywhere if I have the final say in it."

The blonde sniffled, wiping pathetically at her eyes. She wasn't sure if she were crying because of those other girls or because Dean Don was letting her stay, but the tears were falling nonetheless. "I… I don't know… thank you."

He smiled at her, handing a tissue from the box on his desk. "You don't have to thank me for anything. You're a member of the Tomahawk family now. You belong here."

.

.

.

It was snowing when Alicia stepped out of the tall white building. Squinting to find her car, she tightened her scarf around her neck, and stepped tentatively out on to the sidewalk, slowly making her way to her refuge. The white powder hit her face more times than she would've liked, sticking to her eyelashes and freezing her cheeks.

She opened the car door quickly, all but tossing herself into the back seat, and slammed it shut with such a purpose it was like she was trying to escape from something.

And in a sense she was- that doctor's appointment was complete bullshit.

This whole _thing_ was bullshit and she was going to be angry instead of sad because she was far too tired of all the tears.

_Angry_.

Luckily, she could be angry in the warmth; Dean had kept the car running the entire time she was at the doctor and the cold nipping at her exposed skin melted away.

He put the car into park, his worried eyes visible in the rearview mirror, but Alicia paid him no heed. She set her unfocused gaze on the scenery as it passed by in a blur. The holiday decorations- twinkling lights, angels on top of trees, gigantic snow globes- did nothing to improve her mood. Once there was a time when that was all she needed to feel better and now… it only made her more upset.

Four beeps erupted from her phone for the fifth time and Alicia pulled the device out of her winter coat pocket, sighing irritably at the words typed out on her lock screen.

It was Chris. Of course it was Chris. It was never _not_ him.

And honestly, he was great. He was perfect. Amazing, sweet, and all those other adjectives that made it sound like Alicia was placing him on a pedestal. There was no negative word that could be used to describe Christopher Plovert and if she caught anyone saying anything bad about him, she would personally punch them in the face because they were _wrong_.

But… she just couldn't talk to him. Not him. She couldn't deal with the positivity shining out of his ass. Not at a time like this.

**chris [just now]**: ?  
><strong>chris [2 min ago]<strong>: don't push me away please alicia  
><strong>chris [7 min ago]<strong>: you know I'm here for you right? You can tell me what happened it's fine  
><strong>chris [15 min ago]<strong>: alicia please talk to me  
><strong>chris [22 min ago]<strong>: I don't like it when you're sad, what happened?

She had tried to tell him. She really did. The doctor left her alone after the exam for about ten to fifteen minutes and she tried. She told him she was scared, that she was sad, but she couldn't get the words out. They were there on the screen- three words that determined her foreseeable future- but she couldn't press SEND. It would make it real (and she didn't want it to be real).

In fact, she wanted to type her password in and ask him to come over, but he had school. She wasn't going to take him away from that; she knew he would up and leave, not even tell the teacher of the class he was in where he was going. He would just pack his stuff up, walk out the door, and start the trek to the other side of town to make it to her house before she even showed up.

She had to sit on her trembling hands to keep herself from talking to him.

She also didn't want to talk to him because he wanted answers she didn't want to share out loud.

The phone went off a couple more times, question marks and inquiries from Chris she refused to answer.

And that's when Dean started to talk.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she mumbled.

She saw his eyes in the mirror again, but she swallowed and turned her head, unable to make contact. He'd see the devastated look on her face, how sad she really was even though she tried to be strong and hide it. And Dean couldn't see that. He knew her as the indestructible teenage girl that lost her friends more times than she changed her clothes and still made it through the day with a smile on her face. He knew her as the girl that lost her crush to _Claire Lyons_, of all people, and still laughed and joked as if nothing was wrong.

He didn't need to see her as the girl that wrecked her entire life.

But he continued to speak to her, about the things that went on outside while he waited for her, and her resolved started to crumble, one comment at a time.

By the time he got to the story of the girl walking six dogs and all of them getting distracted by the wind, the tears were freely falling down her once-cold cheeks. A few months ago, these small occurrences would have meant nothing to her, but for some reason they were so significant.

An elderly couple coming out of the bowling alley… the dog walker… two small children sipping hot chocolate as they walked with their mother through the freshly fallen snow… a father racing out of a department store with numerous bags, looking rushed and panicked- the signs of any Christmas shopper…

They weren't directly related to her, but they made her sad. And there was no reason whatsoever for her to feel that way.

Another text came in from Chris as she struggled to keep the sounds of her sobbing at bay.

**chris [just now]**: I don't care if you don't answer me I'm coming over after school and we're going to drink peppermint hot chocolate and watch Aladdin for the 96th time I don't care

This time, Alicia couldn't swallow the loud choking sound that clawed at her chest. He took over her very soul, ripping at her every cell, and swallowing her whole. Her ears picked up a dying animal, but it was only her, being destroyed from the inside out.

Dean all but slammed on the brakes when her sob filled the car, jerking the vehicle forward. A string of angry horns and yelling voices followed his actions, but he didn't care, sitting there in the middle of the street even though the light would still be green for a while longer.

Other drivers switched lanes to get around him, flicking their middle fingers up in order to express their discontent, but her driver ignored them, twisting in his seat to get a good look at the Latina.

"I can pretend there's nothing wrong for as long as you want, but when this happens, Leesh, I need to know. Especially if you aren't going to tell your parents."

Alicia sniffed loudly. "He's just s-s-s-s-s-so niiiiiiiiiice," she wailed, everything tasting like salt when she closed her mouth. "Why does he like me? Why does he want anything to do with me? I think I'm in love with him."

"Chris?"

She nodded furiously, wiping at her eyes with her gloved hands though the tears kept pouring out. She was hiccupping all over, loud enough that every other sound was irrelevant to her. She couldn't even hear the honks anymore.

"Alicia... of course he likes you. What's not to like? You're beautiful. You're funny. You're smart. It would be silly of him not to like you, honey, but I don't think you should say you're in _love_ with him just yet. Didn't you just start dating?"

"We're not even dating," she blubbered. "I don't know what we're doing but he's there and I love him and it's stupid that I love him because I know he doesn't love me-"

"Alicia, don't work yourself up over this. He's just a boy-"

"He's just a boy who likes me even though I'm pregnant with his cousin's baby and I hate myself and he doesn't seem to find anything wrong with me," she screeched between heavy sobs.

The car grew silent despite the fact that Dean knew her entire predicament. She had to tell _someone_ and he was the one driving her to all of her appointments and listening to her cry in the car almost every day… it only made sense. And not once did he judge her. Not once did he break her trust and tell her parents. He was the only one who knew the entire story.

They were moving once more a few seconds after her explosion and a short ten minutes later, Dean was climbing into the back seat, a large cup of Alicia's favorite ice cream in his hand.

There they stayed, in the Baskin Robbins parking lot, a girl and her driver, the older man letting her cry for two hours straight as she sporadically spooned mint chocolate chip into her mouth.

"What did they say at the doctor today?" he asked when she seemed to be drained of all her tears.

Alicia sniffled, her head against Dean's shoulder. "They… they said…"

When the words couldn't come out, stuck in the back of her throat, his hand went to her back, rubbing supportive circles.

"It's too late," she spit out eventually, the sentence tangled in itself and slurred. It hurt to say it out loud; she felt as if she had gotten hit by an eighteen-wheeler. "I can't get rid of it." She coughed loudly, pressing herself to continue on. It was important that it was out in the open or else she would wallow in her own self-pity until she burst. "I have to carry this stupid baby to term."

Dean went back inside to get her more ice cream.

.

.

.

"Okay, did you make a Marauder's Map or something? Is that how you always know where I am?" Dylan demanded, looking up from her lonely spot at an empty library table.

"You don't strike me as a Harry Potter fan."

"And you don't strike me as a stalker."

"Ouch," Cam murmured, pulling a chair out. He spun it around so he was straddling it, bare forearms- for he rolled his sleeves up earlier in the day- leaning against the top. "Why are you sitting here alone?"

Dylan cocked an eyebrow. "Where would you like me to sit? Closer to the door?"

"Preferably in the lunchroom. With your _friends_."

"I'm good where I am."

Cam sighed, swatting her homework out of her grip, the lined page flying to the side. "Have you even _talked_ to them, Dyl?"

The redhead rolled her eyes at the nickname- they weren't friends; he wasn't allowed to call her that- and leaned over to grab her math homework before it flew across the library. "Nope."

He sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair, messing up the way his dark hair perfectly fell into his eyes. Why would that matter at an all boys' school? Dylan didn't know, but she secretly appreciated boys with nice hair. But under no circumstances did that mean she secretly appreciated Cam- he was annoying.

"Why won't you just talk to them, Dylan?"

"I don't _have_ to talk to them if I don't want to," she retorted, brushing her fingers through her hair. The curls twisted and tangled against the digits, getting caught in the three rings she had on her right hand. "It's not like they talk to me about anything anyways-"

"Alicia didn't tell _anyone_," Cam whispered harshly, ducking his head closer to hers as if they were exchanging a secret. Which, technically, it was, but Dylan didn't care much. "So, I don't see why you're acting so scorned since _none_ of us knew and besides, aren't you bored of being alone all the time?"

"This has nothing to do with her idiocy." The redhead commented crudely, giving the boy in front of her a hard glare. "It was bound to happen- Alicia's always the first one to do things and she's always the one to get serious consequences from them. The first time she ever made out with a boy she got strep throat."

"I heard from them that you were targeting Alicia for sleeping with Danny Robbins and"- he air-quoted this- "every boy willing to pull his pants down."

Dylan scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "It was about Plovert, but I let the rest of the situation get the better of me."

"_Plovert_."

"Yes. Plovert."

"I'm aware he and Kemp were jerks to you, but Alicia's as happy as she can get with him, so I don't see why-"

Dylan slammed her hands against the wooden table, the sound echoing through the silent room. "Do _not_ try to reason with me. I will _never_ forgive Kemp or Plovert for what they did to me. It was immature and totally uncalled for and I'm pretty sure you and the rest of your stupid friends knew about it while it was happening and you didn't have the balls to make them stop. So you _cannot_ tell me to let it go and tolerate Alicia's new relationship with Plovert because you are just as responsible for my eating disorder as they are."

Cam dropped the chair back onto its four legs, his feet skidding on the floor with the sudden movement. His eyes, clear as day, one blue and one green, stared directly at her as if he were looking right into her soul. The way his lips struggled to form words told Dylan she fucked up really, _really_ bad.

Almost instantly, she ducked her head towards her homework. She couldn't see the numbers properly; they were all blurring in her vision and Cam's gaze was swallowing her whole.

"Eating disorder, Dylan?"

"You all knew I had one," she snapped, searching for a pencil in her bag.

"No. We thought you finally figured out you were being stupid about your body. You've been eating at lunch."

"You obviously don't pay much attention to me then," she replied sourly. "I haven't eaten anything at school in months."

"But you're eating at home, right?"

Dylan looked up at him, pursing her lips together, but she didn't respond.

"You're coming to the cafeteria with me, Dylan."

"I'm going absolutely nowhere with you," she retorted.

Cam frowned deeply. His cheeks were starting to redden in his frustration. "There's still a half hour left in the period. Let's go."

"_No_."

"Dylan, get up."

She gritted her teeth together, steeling herself in her seat. She met his fiery gaze with a determination that should've frightened him, but Cam only stared back unblinkingly. "I'm going to stay _here_."

Cam's hand enclosed over her small wrist, his rough fingers pushing her bracelets up her arm. Dylan wrinkled her nose, pretending she wasn't at all affected by his touch, and licked her lips in a way to keep some control over the predicament… not that it was doing anything. He was still manhandling her like some sort of puppet.

"No, you're coming with me to the cafeteria and you're going to _eat_ and you're going to talk to Kristen and you're going to stop being so fucking miserable."

"_I want you to leave me alone_," she hissed, pulling out of his grip with a force so strong she almost tumbled out of her chair. "If you want to go to the cafeteria so much, go. _By yourself_."

"I'm only going if you do," he retorted, his hand stretched out on the table.

"Well, I'm not going, so you can have fun sitting here."

"Dylan…" Cam mumbled, reaching over to touch her hand again. "Stop being so stubborn-"

"Don't," she snapped, pulling her entire body away from his, "fucking touch me." With that said, she scooped up all of her books and turned on her heel, heading towards a table three behind her original one, where James Ridder and his cronies were sitting.

Cam watched, dumbfounded, as she threw her things in front of the final empty chair, her back facing him, and greeted the three boys almost… warmly, it seemed.

The last thing he saw before he angrily, fists clenched, left the library, was Ridder's smug little smirk, looking as if he won a war Cam wasn't aware they were fighting.

.

.

.

At least they weren't talking feelings.

That would have resulted in more awkward silences and scathing comments than were pleasurable. Even after all the time that had passed, she couldn't talk about it… she _wouldn't_ talk about it. He wanted to, wanted to make amends or something because he "felt bad" and was "scared last year"- whatever the hell _that_ meant, but she wasn't going to let him, not when she was so content with their current relationship. If that's what you could call it.

But she wasn't quite sure letting him have his way with her was the best alternative.

It all sort of started after she had woken up after a short nap with him still on top of her as if he never moved. He was up- she wasn't sure how long he had been or if he even fell back asleep- and the pads of his fingers were brushing up and down her exposed midriff, a gesture that somehow lulled her into a sense of calmness and at the same time erupted a fire within her.

Her reaction to his touch was all in all quite annoying.

"Hi," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sleep tinging the edges. She all but tingled at the sound of it, but she would rather forget that ever happened.

"Morning." She paused. "Again."

Derrick tilted his head to look up at her, dirty blonde curls falling into his eyes. "You're cute," he told her and Massie wanted to say no, you're wrong, you are, with your blinding smile and your dimples, but she couldn't get the words out.

Instead she let her cheeks heat up in the most obvious way possible and Derrick chuckled, letting his fingers run up and down her skin again.

"So," she finally said when she mustered up the courage, "what do you want to do now that we haven't gone to school?"

"Kiss you," he replied and what occurred next was a bit of blur. One second his head was still on her stomach, his calloused fingers teasing at her skin, the next his lips were on hers and his hands were cupping her cheeks, so big but so gentle. (And, really, that was how it all started.)

Though it was snowy and cold outdoors, the temperature in Massie's bedroom steadily increased with every kiss and touch.

Derrick worked his way down her neck, ghosting over the fading marks his mouth left there before, his hands pushing her shirt (which was really _his_ shirt she had stolen the night before) down her petite form; the fabric pooled around at her waist.

Gooseflesh erupted all over her even though she wasn't the slightest bit chilly. His fingers couldn't stay still, dancing all over her exposed body, even lingering at the clasp of her bra before quickly moving down to settle at the small of her back. His lips, however, didn't seem shy in their movements, kissing a path from her collarbone to her chest, his eyes flicking up to look at her for a moment before focusing all of his attention there.

Massie let out a whimper- a harsh one, if anything- and tugged at the hem of his shirt, her only thought (besides _holy shit_, of course) being how _un_fair it was for him to not show off his body. Especially if she had to show hers.

His ministrations stopped so he could pull the irritating article of clothing over his head. Massie practically hummed in appreciation the moment she saw the toned muscle of his abdomen, but the rest of her quaked and craved his touch to return.

And then he was all over her again, skin against skin, mouth against mouth. He smelled of boy and sleep and everything that was perfect in the world.

She wriggled beneath him, a needy warmth erupting in the lower half of her body. She didn't know if there was a way for him to know how she felt or if it was obvious by how her hips jerked, but while one hand pressed into the mattress to keep himself above her, the other traveled down past her belly button, hardly brushing against the waistline of her sweats before disappearing in them completely.

He dropped to his elbow to situate himself, pressing a hard kiss to her mouth. She refused to let his face go, digging her fingers into his hair, and prying her tongue into his mouth.

_God_, she forgot how good he was with his hands.

And then… the bomb dropped.

Three words were mumbled into her mouth at the exact same time his fingers curled _just_ _right_ and in a perfect world, Massie would've been too focused on his actions rather than his words, but things didn't always work out that way.

It didn't take long for Derrick to realize what he just said. His face reddened so deeply the color resembled that of a tomato and his fingers stopped moving, his hand just awkwardly placed in between her legs.

Massie couldn't even pretend she didn't hear it. It was _that_ obvious.

"I…" he coughed, averting his eyes. He looked to the side, above her head, and then, when he couldn't find anywhere natural to put them, he stared straight at her. "I…" he fumbled again, licking his lips, pink, swollen, and dry.

She blinked at him, her panic overcoming her. This was exactly what she didn't want. Sure, she wasn't aware that word would be involved when they talked feelings but it _was_ and everything was suddenly all the more nerve-racking. She could feel her heart beating faster and faster… but it wasn't out of excitement like it should have been. She was scared and wishing for nothing but him to say it was a slip up, that he didn't mean it. He couldn't mean it.

_Couldn't_.

Massie was hot all over but for all the wrong reasons and she wanted him far, far away from her with his stupid words and his cute face and the freckles on his nose and his heavenly hands and-

"I mean it," he finally blurted, looking just as panicked as she felt. "I love you."

"No," she said forcefully. "_No_."

"No?" he repeated, blinking at her stupidly. "How do you know how I feel?"

She scrambled into a sitting position, which was a difficult task in itself- you know, with his hand placement and all.

Once she was as far from him as could be humanly possible on her bed, she took a deep breath, hoping some strength could be found somewhere deep inside her. She couldn't find much.

"You can't love me," she told him sternly. Her voice shook, but she paid it no heed. "I'm irrational and a bit insane and immature"- she shot him a look here and he had the gall to look amused- "and you're, like, the total opposite and-"

"-and completely in love with you," he said in a soft voice. "I've been trying to tell you that all year, but you never give me the opportunity."

She blanched, feeling nauseous. "No. You're lying. If you were in love with me, you wouldn't have… last year wouldn't have…"

Derrick sighed, his gaze piercing, and it was in that moment Massie remembered just how naked she was. "Don't you get it, Block?" he murmured. "That's _why_ last year happened."

"You broke up with me because you loved me." It wasn't a question. It was an accusation and she didn't even want to be that defensive, but _seriously_? How do you dump someone because you _loved_ them? Don't you do the opposite?

"I know it sounds bad." He swallowed, going to play with the end of his shirt like he always did before realizing it wasn't on. His hand pinched at his skin instead. "But yes. I… was scared. Of how I was feeling."

Massie breathed in sharply through her nose. "So. Instead of- I don't _know_- figuring this all out, you _dumped me_."

"Listen-"

"Maybe I would've listened a year ago when I was in love with _you_, but now? Not so much."

Derrick's head shot up, his cheeks pink. "You were…?"

"Yes. I was." It was the first time she admitted it to anyone- maybe even herself- and even though her entire world shattered when he ended it, it was still inside her, buried deep. And listening to him say he was in love with her right now, in that very second, that feeling hummed to life again, buzzing and jerking, alive within her almost as if she never tried to get rid of it. But… "I didn't dump you because of it though."

"I didn't… being in love with you was- _is still_, actually- the scariest thing I've ever experienced." She wouldn't look at him, but he was trying desperately to hold her gaze. "And I'm not saying that's a good excuse for my actions. I'll admit I'm a fucking coward, I am, but my mom- she told me once that there would be someone out there who would break me completely and I'd love it. Absolutely fucking love it." He paused, biting his lip. She still wasn't looking at him, but she was listening.

"I didn't believe her. Why in the world would I like the feeling of being broken? I thought she was full of it and then… I met you." He finally gave up looking at her, instead focusing his attention on her bedroom door. "And you're literally the moon and the sun and the stars and I wanted you to like me _so_ badly because I liked you that exact amount. And you didn't. You liked Cam and it tore me up and I finally _got _it. You didn't look at me or talk to me and all you did was flirt with my best friend but I didn't care. You were taking everything I had and ripping it to shreds and I wanted you to. I still do."

All Massie could do was sit there and try not to stare at him like a deer in the headlights.

He loved her.

Loved.

She was "the moon and the sun and the stars."

Loved her.

She should say something, not be such an idiot like she always was, get over her irrational fear of getting attached to him again.

He loved her.

Not just that: He was _in_ love with her.

And all she did was blurt "I can't do this" and lock herself in the bathroom.


	42. forty one

**a/n: **This marks the end of the first installment of The Lost Boys. I think I might have told you that there would be two parts and the next one is not a sequel, but rather a continuation of the story. I'm treating this like it would be TV show, so this is, like, the season finale, if that makes it easier to understand. I want to thank everyone who helped me make it this far in this journey and I hope in some shape or form, I helped a few of you out, whether it be with family problems, friend problems, or even problems with yourselves.

It feels a little weird to be ending this. Even though it's not entirely over, I feel different somehow. I've been dealing with this story for years, and a lot of it is based on extremely personal experiences that I'm glad I can share in a positive way.

I'll see you again real soon.

xx

* * *

><p><strong>Previously: <strong>Derrick admitted to Massie that he allows his father to beat him because he doesn't want him to hurt his mother. It also so happens that his father is the coach of the varsity soccer team and, due to a fight with his son, he benched Derrick during the championship game. The Tomahawks lost and Derrick's father has a bit of a drinking problem, so he's scared to go home. Instead, he asks Massie to stay with her, and during that stay, he lets slip that he's been in love with her for practically a year. Alicia got drunk at a party at the beginning of the year and had sex with Danny Robbins, who, in turn, got her pregnant, and, at her last doctor's visit, she finds out it's too late to abort the child. Chris likes Alicia and Danny's his cousin, but when he heard him talking about how he railed Alicia, he beat him up in the middle of the school hallway, resulting in his suspension from the soccer team. Claire made a slew of bad decisions in the short amount of time the group have been in the tenth grade and because of them, her father is sending her off to live with her grandparents.

* * *

><p>He didn't know how long he sat there, or how long he wallowed in self-pity. What he did know was how uncomfortable it was, how his body heated up with each passing moment he remained on the edge of her bed, what with the comforter that was comfortable once before itching beneath his palms. The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in his head until his heart beat matched the speed of the memory, racing every time the lock clicked shut.<p>

He was numb, a feeling he was very much familiar with. If someone came over and slapped him in the face, he was sure he wouldn't feel it.

"Massie…" he all but stammered, trying to force himself to say something, _anything_, but nothing seemed good enough. What was he to say anyway? Was he supposed to apologize, sweep his proclamation under the rug, pretend it never happened? He couldn't. Wouldn't, actually.

It took him almost an entire year to figure out this was what he wanted: for her to know. Admitting that she meant more to him than anything else in the world was a lot for him to comprehend and it wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do. Feelings weren't his forte. He wasn't good at opening up, but he never expected her to _run_. That was his job, wasn't it?

Derrick coughed, glancing from the floor he seemed immersed in to the door separating him from Massie. He wondered what she was doing—did she feel as awful as he did? Was love _supposed _to feel this way? He opened his mouth to ask, had her name on the tip of his tongue again, when he heard the spray of the shower.

Truly fantastic.

With a heavy sigh and the tiniest roll of his eyes, he pushed himself off her bed, searching for his shoes and the sweatshirt he had worn to the soccer game on Saturday. He wasn't going to sit there and wait for Massie to be ready to discuss this, especially after she spent however long she needed in the shower just to figure out what it was she wanted to say.

That was the only reason she was in there, of course; he knew her well enough for that.

He just hoped he hadn't accidentally thrown out his house keys along with his soccer bag.

When he was finally outside—after a narrow run-in with Inez and what sounded like a blender—he pulled his phone out of his pocket, where an onslaught of (extremely frantic—on Josh's end) text messages awaited him.

**josh [8:31]**: where are you where is massie where is EVERYONE  
><strong>cam [9:03]<strong>: do you and josh have some sort of romance going on that you didn't tell me about I've never seen him so out of whack before  
><strong>josh [9:14]<strong>: alicia's not here either I am alone in all of my classes I hate you guys  
><strong>plovert [9:48]<strong>: WHERE ARE YOU HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GO ON  
><strong>kemp [11:07]<strong>: we're nothing without you  
><strong>kemp [11:10]<strong>: it took josh 5 minutes to figure out if he wanted pizza or French fries and the entire time he was going "derrick would know what I want derrick always knows what I want"  
><strong>kemp [11:15]<strong>: he picked French fries. In case you were wondering.  
><strong>cam [11:45]<strong>: we have this really weird dependency thing going on here. I think it's very unhealthy. Please return to school as soon as possible. Ty ily.  
><strong>plovert [11:49]<strong>: seriously are you dead I don't think I can plan a nice funeral I'm more of a wedding guy ya feel  
><strong>kristen [11:53]<strong>: I hate you.  
><strong>josh [11:56]<strong>: I miss you ):

It was funny, he thought, how much they cared when she did not, but even with that in mind, he couldn't bring himself to respond to any of them. Their codependency, the way they always seemed to need each other despite the obvious fact that they _didn't_, not really, always amused him, but. It didn't. Not now. He couldn't laugh at it this time like he always did when one of them latched on to him; he couldn't really do anything except kick at stray rocks on the ground and shiver involuntarily at the winter chill…almost like he was incapable of much else.

He was _so _stupid. What had he expected when he blurted those three words out? For her to say them back?

Well…yeah. He thought… maybe he didn't think, actually, but he thought that would've been it. His biggest secret out in the open. The truth about everything. I love you. I'm in love with you. Have been since I first met you. Just couldn't say it because I was scared. Ruined everything because I'm a piece of shit.

But he should've figured working with Massie wouldn't be as easy as he wished. She wouldn't let things play out in his favor; that's not how she did it. She was stubborn and hard to please and strong-willed and quick-witted and so fucking beautiful—

—and it wasn't doing him any good, thinking about what he shouldn't have said and how he was all in all sort of homeless since he was supposed to stay at her house—

His head was swimming so much that he dialed Cam, pressing the phone to his ear without bothering to check the time or even if he had the right number. There was too much going on in his brain, too much adrenaline in his body, fingers trembling, knees quaking, that he needed to talk to someone.

Cam picked up on the third ring. "I like you far too much," were the first words out of his best friend's mouth, "or else I wouldn't have left Spanish to sit in the bathroom to talk to you."

"You don't even _like_ Spanish," Derrick reminded him, trying to keep the steely edge out of his voice. He didn't think it worked. "And it's not like I want to talk about the weather."

"Well. It is rather cold out. Did you notice?"

"This is not the time to _joke_, Cameron." He sighed, running a heavy hand through his hair. "I'm a fucking idiot."

His best friend hesitated and Derrick knew it was because he wanted to make some shitty comment on his behalf. Instead, he said, "So, you're not sick."

"Clearly," the blonde responded dryly, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "I don't know why anyone _thought_—"

Cam let out a barely audible snort on the other end. "No one thought you were sick at all, D. You spent the night at Massie's, right? Too much tension there. I would've been surprised you showed." He paused like he was finished speaking, but ended up continuing almost as an afterthought: "Except Josh is very upset you've abandoned him."

"I'm pretty sure you told me to return to school, thank you, I love you, so he's not the only one who misses me terribly," Derrick teased, though it was forced and completely unlike him. It was like his voice wasn't even his anymore.

"You didn't call me to tell me about the eighteen text messages we sent you. Why are you a fucking idiot?"

"Eleven, actually, and one was from Kristen, who hates me."

"What's up?" Cam demanded, ignoring Derrick's smart aleck comment.

Derrick sniffed. "I told her."

"Uh. Told who what?"

The blonde rolled his eyes—because it was really fucking obvious, _come on_—and muttered, "Massie. That I love her." Then he bit his lip so hard he was sure it started to bleed.

There was complete and utter silence on Cam's part that Derrick had to pull the phone away from his ear to make sure the boy didn't hang up on him. He didn't, and Derrick heard the door swing open and closed as someone else entered the bathroom.

"You didn't," his friend mumbled. Cam's tone of voice matched Derrick's overall outlook on life and that only seemed to make it worse. "Why? Why would you even _think_ that's a good idea? Last time you thought about it, you…"

"Dumped her with some shit excuse about her immaturity, I know." Derrick took a deep breath, his heart racing unnaturally. "It's not like… I didn't _plan_ it or anything. It just. Came out, I guess. I don't even know why I let it get that far anyway—with my mouth, I mean. Not like. Never mind—and then she told me that I _didn't_, which thanks a lot, Massie, you clearly know how I feel and how long I've been battling this stupid fucking feeling, and locked herself in the bathroom."

"What did you expect, Derrick? Open arms? She spent a good part of this year thinking you, like, hated her or something and didn't want to date her anymore when in all actuality you've been in love with her since, like, the beginning of time and—"

"You don't have to tell me things I already know, man. I fucked shit up a lot worse than I could've imagined."

"You know she's going to tell Josh, right?"

Derrick sighed. "I'm eagerly awaiting his phone call. Believe me."

"He'll probably skin you alive for doing this to her," Cam told him, like he didn't already know that his other friend's loyalties clearly lied with Massie. "But… maybe it's for the best, y'know?"

"How is it _for the best_, Cam?" the blonde demanded, turning down a familiar road, the one with the huge oak tree, branches bare because of the winter, in the side yard of the house on the corner. "I told her, she told me no, and locked herself in a bathroom. I'm not feelin' any good vibes."

"But she _knows_." The faucet turned on. "_She knows_. It might… change things."

"Yeah, she might not talk to me again!" Derrick hissed. "I was stupid enough to think she loved me too because I was stupid enough to think she let herself feel anything for me again after I—"

"You really are a fucking idiot," interrupted Cam with a humorless laugh.

Derrick frowned, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He couldn't get anything out, not even a simple inquiry, which propelled Cam forward.

"Of course she loves you," he said.

"She love_d_ me. There's a difference. She told me herself."

"Bullshit," Cam countered. "It's not like she can turn that off whenever she wants."

"But. She went out with you."

His friend snorted. "Hardly. And even so, _big freakin' deal_. She went out with me, she loves you. It's really not that hard to understand."

"I. I don't…"

"She wouldn't have dealt with you for this long if she didn't love you. You're a moron."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not."

"It is. Believe me. She's just scared that it's out in the open now, and that she has to deal with what she's feeling before she wants to. It's all about timing with Massie, but more importantly, it's all about _her_ timing. She does things when she wants to, never when anyone else does. This threw her off, I'm sure."

Derrick raised an eyebrow as if she friend could see his facial expression and mumbled, "How do you know?"

"I'm very observant" was Cam's response. And then: "Look, class is gonna end in, like, ten, and I'm gonna have to use the explosive diarrhea excuse"—here, Derrick made a face—"but hold tight. It's not as bad as you think it is."

The call disconnected and a noise of discontentment formed in the back of Derrick's throat. He glared at his phone for a long moment with the thought of tossing it in the snow and leaving it there for good, before pocketing it roughly and stomping off down the block to his house.

Next time he decided to call someone for some sort of temporary relief, he was going to ring Josh instead. At least that boy would send him kisses or something until Derrick felt less like cutting his own foot off. Cam was far too rational.

He ran a hand through his hair and dragged his feet up the walkway to his front door. His head was swimming, mostly with just thoughts of the conversation—if that—he had with Massie, but the moment he put his hand to the knob, his stomach dropped, a sickening feeling that cleared him of that memory.

Something was wrong.

He didn't know how or why, he just did, the sinking in his stomach forcing him forward to push the door open, leaving him standing in his too-large foyer, breathing heavily.

It was quiet—a little too quiet, if you asked him, and he was almost convinced no one was home, that he was paranoid because he was practically rejected not even an hour ago.

But then he heard it: the harsh footsteps, the forceful murmurs of words he couldn't make out, and the female voice of his mother, trying to appease her husband.

Leaving the front door wide open, Derrick took off through the maze of his first floor, almost bumping into the edge of a couch, to make it to the kitchen, where he was positive they were. He skidded to a stop by the doorway, heart pounding in his chest.

With a palm to the wall, he tried to steady his shaky breaths in an attempt to regain control of his body. His father would never go after his mother if anyone was home and by the way he was speaking, as if everything that was wrong in the world was Candace's fault, Derrick was positive Sammi and Patrick were nowhere to be seen.

"…James, honey, I know you're upset, but let's calm down. I'll make you some coffee."

Derrick gritted his teeth together, hating the way his mother sounded, hating the way she had to deal with him. How old was he? Definitely old enough to know not to treat the woman he loved—that is, if he still loved her—the way he was. It made Derrick's skin crawl.

"I don't want your fucking coffee," his father snapped, the ferocity in his voice hitting Derrick hard. "I don't want _anything_. I want—" His threats were drowned out by the sound of breaking glass and his mother's intake of breath, small and scared, but refusing to show it—

That's when Derrick made his move.

The bowl that held the fruits was shattered on the floor; an apple was still rolling along the tile as he entered the room.

"Derrick!" Candace gasped, forcing a smile on her face. "When did you get home? Did you have fun at—oh, don't worry about that mess; it was just a little—"

Her son shot her a pointed look before turning around. "If you need someone to be angry with," he spat at his father, "be angry with me."

"Go upstairs, Derrick," his mother continued to press. "It'll be fine. Dad's just…in a mood."

"No, it will _not_ be fine," the boy growled, his hard glare set on his father's face. Everything around him was tinted red. "And this is more than just a mood." He could smell the alcohol from here. The redness in his cheeks and the glassiness of his eyes were dead giveaways.

"_Derrick_," she pleaded.

"No."

"Let the boy stay, Candy." Derrick shivered at the nickname, feeling dirty just at the sound of it. His father always had to have the upper hand.

"Don't call her that."

"I can call her anything I want," James jeered.

Derrick bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, refraining from balling his hands into fists. "No, you can't," he forced out, "but you _can_ go out and take a walk."

His father took a step towards him, but he refused to back up, remaining stationary in his spot. He felt his mother's hand ghost across his back, as if she were telling him to leave; he ignored it.

"Don't tell me what to do, Derrick." His name slipped out of the man's mouth silkily. "What I do and say is none of your concern."

"It becomes my concern when it has to do with _my_ mother."

"Oh, so she's just _your_ mother now?" James chuckled loudly though nothing was funny. "I wasn't aware you staked a claim on her."

Derrick frowned deeply. "It's not like you're treating her like she's anything special, so. Yes. I have."

"I don't _have_ to treat her like anything—"

"She's _my mother_!" he shouted. "You don't get the right to shove her around like she's nothing! Why do you do it? Why is it so _fucking_ easy for you to treat her like a piece of shit? _Why_."

"Watch your mouth around me, young man."

"You don't deserve any of my respect."

"I am your _father_—"

The blonde threw his head back and cackled. "I forgot how funny you are. Ha. Ha. _Ha_."

"Derrick, you don't know what you're getting into," his mother whispered behind him. He ignored her again.

James continued closer and Derrick stayed put, pressing his hand against his mother's shoulder to get her to move. "You're a little shit," he muttered. "Did you know that?"

"Yep."

It had to have been the smartass response that set him off, but Derrick wasn't sure, and he wouldn't be, not when this was all over, either.

James lunged forward, Derrick shoved his mother out of the way, and his body was slammed against the counter. A searing pain surged through his lower body, his hipbones sore. He threw his hands out before his father could get any closer and pressed his entire weight into his palms, pushing the bigger man back as far as he could.

Derrick was done. He was so fucking done with his father's shit. With the way he was always acting so superior. And he was done with himself, for not doing anything about it, for being so fucking weak and _letting_ it slip past him. It was time for a change.

Something on the middle island rolled off when his father's large body hit it, but no one seemed to care. James only had eyes, albeit drunken and glassy, for him, and Derrick's heart raced at the sight of him, and he wanted to punch everything in his way.

Before he could act, a fist hit the side of his face, his mother screeched at his father to _get her hands off her son, James_, and Derrick's head flung back, just narrowly missing the cabinets above him.

Blood rushed in his ears. His cheek stung. His neck was sore. Despite the lack of sound—his anger was overtaking him, blocking out everything around him—Derrick surged forward and attacked back, his hands hitting every part of his father's body that was visible: his face, his neck, the spot where his neck and shoulder meet—

—and his father merely hit him in the gut.

The breath was knocked out of him and he struggled to gain his bearings, gripping the side of the counter. His mother was screeching still, yelling at James to leave Derrick alone, _please please please_, and James only said that he asked for it, but all the sounds were far away.

James didn't give him enough time to stand straight before he was back at it and Derrick flailed against him, his legs kicking and his hands slapping at anything and everything. He was gasping for air every chance he got. When his hand hit something fleshy, he gripped it tightly with his fingers, pressing his nails into his father's skin.

His father struggled to release him, but Derrick held strong, bringing his knee straight up once he was in a better position. The second he hit the man where the sun don't shine, James released him and Derrick all but tumbled to the ground.

He didn't stay there for long, hopping up even though he longed to wallow in the pain his father caused him, and gripped the neck of James' shirt. The man's breath hitched as Derrick dragged him across the kitchen floor, the anger and adrenaline giving him the strength he needed.

"Get out," he ordered darkly at the pathetic man. With some difficulty, he shoved him out the back door, letting him tumble down the three concrete steps. The alcohol in his system would make sure he didn't feel that until after the fact. "Don't even think about coming back."

James made no response, only curled in on himself in their backyard, and Derrick turned away from the sight in disgust, the door slamming behind him. "I'm calling the cops on him, Mom," he said, "and we have to change the locks."

He struggled to find his phone in his pockets, but his fingers kept shaking. He held the denim of his jeans out, shoved his hand inside, and gripped the phone, only for it to slip out of his sweaty grip. He had to call them; he had to let them know his father was a psychopath, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because he couldn't get a goddamn grip on his phone and he was going to come back and hurt his mother again and he couldn't let that happen, no no no—

His mother's arms were around him in an instant and he let himself succumb to the trembling. He gripped her back just as tight, squeezing her close to him, feeling warm and safe for the first time in a while. Head buried in her neck, taking in the sweet smell of her perfume, he let himself cry. Heavy, ugly sobs escaped him, ripping apart his throat, though he wasn't sure what he was really crying over anymore.

Candace didn't seem to care; all she did was run her fingers through his hair, rub his back. The movement was soothing, but he still couldn't catch his breath, couldn't get a hold of the bawling that wracked his body.

"It's okay now, baby," she murmured. "It's okay."

Derrick pulled away from her, taking in her appearance through watery eyes. Her face was red, her lips swollen from her biting them, and a big bruise blossomed by her temple. His fingers brushed against it gently, his eyebrows furrowed. "He hurt you."

"It's nothing, honey. I've had worse."

When he pulled his hand away, a red fluid stained his fingertips. "You're bleeding," he let out, his throat sore. He could feel the tears threatening to break through again, and his mother was blurry in front of him. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry I didn't do that sooner."

.

.

.

After her eyes were dry and she had eaten her weight in frozen yogurt, Dean drove Alicia back home. She felt empty, even though she was full, numb to everything in the world.

There was a child inside of her. Someone who needed her to take care of herself to care for it and it was awful that she didn't want to do any of that. She wanted it gone, never wanted to remember Danny Robbins.

And she couldn't get rid of it… it was too late to do anything. She was stuck with it, stuck with something she didn't want because of an awful, awful mistake. All she could do was suck it up and deal. Hopefully.

She took deep breaths to calm herself as the car waited for the iron gates to part. _There is nothing wrong. Everything is fine. I'm no longer sick. I can go back to school. _

She caught Dean's eye in the mirror and mustered up her biggest—and fakest—smile. It hurt her cheeks to have her face stretched out like this.

"We'll figure something out, Leesh," he promised, but Alicia knew there was no use in hoping for a miracle. She had learned one thing from this experience: She was never doing anything reckless again.

The car was parked, and her driver was out before she was. She sat there, looking blankly at the dark walls in the garage, and ran a hand through her hair. There was nothing else she could do except get up to her room and wait for Chris to come over. He would know how to make her feel better, even if that did mean watching Aladdin. Again.

Alicia perked up a bit with that thought in mind and hopped out of the car, the draft causing her to pull her scarf tighter around her neck.

She had no idea where Dean went, but the door leading her to the kitchen was open. She walked through, closing it quietly behind her, and hoped she could make it upstairs without giving off the impression that something was wrong.

As she passed through the kitchen, Joyce offered to make her a cup of hot chocolate. She agreed, still feeling the nip of the winter cold against her skin, and made her way to the staircase, ready to change out of her jeans and into sweatpants while she waited for Chris to come over. Thankfully, school would be ending soon—the clock in the hallway read 2:30. He'd be here in about an hour since he'd have to walk. Maybe Dean would be able to pick him up…

She was on the third step when her name was called from the other room.

"Yeah?" she called out hesitantly, holding a hand to her beating heart.

"Could you come here, please?" Her mother's voice was tightly controlled and Alicia closed her eyes for a second before murmuring her assertion.

Alicia's footsteps were light as she made her way to the dining room. It was an odd place for her mother to be, really. They never spent any time in here, not even during the holidays. It was one of the many look-but-don't-touch rooms in the Rivera household.

Both of her parents were seated at the head of the table, the Swarovski-crystal chandelier finally in use above them. The teen stood facing them, one of her hands gripping the back of a chair. She wasn't exactly sure what she was here for, so she kept her mouth shut and smiled politely at the two of them.

Len Rivera looked exhausted. His tanned face was paler than usual and the corners of his eyes exposed more wrinkles than he would have liked. His mouth was set in a straight line instead of its usual amused smirk. Had Alicia done something wrong?

Nadia, on the other hand, had her poker face on, something she used only when she was speaking to some of Len's high-end clients and hosting her slew of rich friends. "We were wondering how you were feeling."

"I'm better," she responded, licking her lips. "The doctor cleared me for school."

"That's great, pumpkin. I'm glad you're—" Nadia shut her father up with just one look and he swallowed down his words. Alicia frowned.

"Is there something you'd like to tell us?" her mother asked, looking at her curiously. In her hand was a piece of paper Alicia failed to notice earlier, and an open envelope was on the table before her.

The girl blinked and struggled to breathe through her nose without any sort of hitch. "Um. No?"

"No? Alright." Nadia pursed her lips, pressing the paper down with her long manicured fingernails. "Explain this, then."

Although Alicia was terrified to walk closer to them, she moved her feet, shoving her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt to hide their shaking. She didn't understand why she was so afraid of them. There was no way they could possibly know about—about the pregnancy thing. Her doctor said she wouldn't tell them until Alicia was ready for them to know, so.

From where she was now standing, just a few feet away from her mother, she could only make out the name of her gynecologist's office on the top of the paper. Her stomach flipped—they couldn't have told them, could they?—and she tried to keep her expression neutral as she asked, "What is that?"

Nadia eyed her down and Alicia managed to swallow without them noticing. Potentially. Hopefully. "A bill," her mother said. "I was unaware you were seeing a gynecologist this entire time."

"What's it a bill for?" she questioned. "I was having bad period cramps, so I saw her. That's probably what it's for." The lie was weak at best, but if there was nothing to prove otherwise on that piece of paper, it could work.

"For over five hundred dollars?"

Alicia winced. She hadn't known the cost of the appointment would be _that_ much. She had just hoped this would be one of those times where they just paid whatever it was in front of them and went about their day. Of course it wasn't. Not with her luck.

"They… uh. Had to run some tests."

"For what purpose?"

"They weren't sure what was causing the cramps." Alicia racked her brain for something else to add, something that made more sense. She used to be good at lying, but then again, that was before she had something this big to hide. "The doctor thought I had a… cyst. An ovarian cyst. If they pop, I would lose my entire ovary."

Still, her mother's gaze was on her, questioning, accusing, and not believing. "And?"

"I don't have one. I'm fine in that area."

"Then what was causing your pains?"

"I… they don't know yet. They wanted to see if it would happen this month again and then they thought of putting me on birth control because it would regulate the period—"

Nadia's loud sigh interrupted her mindless babbling. With creased eyebrows, she demanded: "The truth now, Alicia."

Alicia scrunched up her face, trying to seem as confused as possible. "That is the truth, Mom."

"If that's so, you won't mind if I call this office then, do you?"

Alicia's heart beat quickened until she was sure her family could hear it slam against her chest. "What? You don't believe me?"

Nadia shot her a look that spoke volumes. "I rarely believe you, Alicia."

"What? Why not?"

"You've been lying since you were twelve. You don't have that much credibility."

This hurt Alicia more than she'd like to admit. While she had never been particularly close with her mother—she liked her father a lot more—to have one of them say she couldn't be trusted… it wasn't exactly the best thing to hear.

Her mother's fingers were pressing into their phone when Alicia came back to Earth and she almost leapt across the table to get it away from her. "No—_no_," she forced out, trembling hands pressing against her face. "I—no. You're right. Please don't call them. I'd rather tell you."

Their attention was on her again and she felt her whole face heat up. She didn't want to tell them. Not right now. It wasn't like she could never tell them, but… she really wished she could.

She stood there, averting her gaze, staring at the floor, at the table, at the window, but never at them. "I, um…" she trailed off, wringing her hands together. "I. I went there because I… I…" She swallowed, looked at her hands and blurted: "IthoughtIwaspregnant."

"Alicia…" that was her father.

"And—and I _am_, and I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—I didn't know this would happen and—please don't hate me, I didn't want this and I don't—"

But she was silenced by the five awful words that let her mother's mouth. "Get out of my house."

.

.

.

It was when Chris was standing at Kemp's locker that he noticed the number of times Alicia called him in the past fifteen minutes. Another notification popped on his phone, alerting him that he had a voicemail, and he held a finger up to his friend so he could listen to it.

It started off with a strangled sob. "I… hi. Are you out of school yet? I hope you are—I don't really know what to do and I don't want to be by myself because I'm scared and and and and"—she took the deepest of breaths here, but she still sounded like she couldn't breathe properly—"my parents got me to tell them and they kicked me out of the house—I don't know what to do; I'm sitting on a corner and I don't have a jacket. Chris, I—"

The message didn't go any farther than that because Chris abruptly ended it, seething. How could they do _that_ to her? When she needed them most, they made her leave? It wasn't even like it was her fault—Danny knew she liked him and he used it to his advantage after she got drunk enough.

_Danny_.

Chris spun around, looking around the hall for the older boy's head of dark hair. He was nowhere to be found.

Kemp's hand landed on his shoulder and Chris jumped. "Dude, you okay?"

"No." A deep frown furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not."

"What's up?" his friend shouldered his bag and started the trek to Josh's locker, like they always did after school ended.

"I need to find Danny Robbins."

"Why?"

"I need to beat the shit out of him."

"Don't you think Hotchkiss did enough of that?" Kemp questioned.

Chris whirled around on him, narrowing his eyes. "No. Not nearly enough." He hurried up his pace, long legs going as far as they could with each step. He was certain he would find Danny somewhere.

Kemp struggled to keep up, pushing aside anyone that got in his way. "What is _going on_?" he demanded, coming to a stop when Chris looked down another hall.

"Alicia's parents kicked her out." The other boy's words were cold as ice, his tone not one to be messed with. "I am going to _kill_ him."

"They _what_?"

After deducing that Danny wasn't in that particular area of the school, Chris took off again. They stormed right past their other friends ("Hey! Where are you going?" Josh shouted), Kemp right at Chris' heels.

"I don't know much, but she called me, and it's all Danny's fault." Chris forced the front doors open, stepping out into the bright winter sun, reflecting off the banks of snow around the school. "I'm going to cut his balls off and make him _eat them_."

"I don't want to touch anyone else's balls, but I'm down to punch him in the face," Kemp supplied, shielding his eyes to search for the boy in question. "Hey, I think that's—"

But Chris was already gone.

He made a beeline to where Danny was standing, flanked by his friends, and believe it or not, Skye Hamilton. How she got to Briarwood from OCD so fast was beyond him. His cousin—you couldn't really pick family, could you?—beamed when he noticed him.

"Chris! How goes it?" he questioned, as if he wasn't the one who impregnated his somewhat girlfriend, which in turn got her kicked out of her house, and indirectly got him suspended from the soccer team.

So, it made perfect sense when Chris forwent the formalities and opted to punch the older boy in the face instead.

"Whoa, little man!" Danny exclaimed, rubbing his nose. The punch hadn't done much damage; it was just enough to show Chris' discontent. "What's the hostility all about?"

"Don't call me 'little man'," Chris griped, slamming his fist into another part of his cousin's body. "And don't pretend"—another punch—"you don't know"—and another—"what my issue is."

Skye giggled at the display. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw her whisper something to one of her friends, and it was her amusement that enraged him even more. _How dare she?_

His hands balled up again, and he took a step forward, ready to throw himself at Danny, but one of his friends gripped his arms, keeping him in place.

"Is this about your stupid slut of a girlfriend?" Danny asked, a steely glint in his eye.

"She is not a slut!" Chris snarled back. "And it's _all your fault_! You're the reason everything is shit and I hate you."

Danny chuckled darkly. "Upset I popped your girl's cherry before you could?"

"Yeah," Chris retorted sarcastically. "So upset. So _fucking _upset." He snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's not about that, you dipshit. It's your fault she's fucking pregnant, that's what, and I am going to rip you to shreds for doing that to her. You dick."

For a moment, the taller boy looked lost, like he wasn't sure what to do, but then it was gone, replaced by his normal, ugly mug. "Well, that's her own fault, isn't it? Shouldn't have begged me for it if she wasn't prepared for the consequences."

"_She didn't beg for it_!" a voice snapped, but it most definitely wasn't Chris', and the next thing he knew Kemp was tackling Danny to the ground.

If there was someone you could always count on, it was definitely Kemp.

Chris struggled out of Danny's minion's grasp and, while Kemp held Danny down, slammed his knuckles into his face as many times as he could. The back of Danny's head hit the cement, but his hands still tried to wrap themselves around Chris' wrists to block the blows. Surprisingly enough, none of his so-called friends jumped in to help him. Skye was still giggling.

He didn't know how long he wailed on him for, his knees pressing into his shoulders to keep him still. His hands started to hurt and Kemp started to mumble things like _stay fucking put _and _talk about one of my friends one more time, I swear_, but after a while some sort of group formed around them, and arms were pulling him off his cousin, dragging him backwards.

"You're fucking stupid, right?" Cam hissed in his ear, crouching down to wipe Danny's nose blood off his knuckles with his sleeve. "There's gotta be _something_ wrong with you if you decided getting into _another_ fight with Danny was a good idea. Especially on school property."

Chris stared up at him without a care, blinking. "Yeah, so?"

"Well. Fighting is prohibited on school grounds and… well—"

"What is the cause of this?" Dean Don's voice boomed. His shoes stopped right in front of Chris, where the evidence was splattered not so nicely on his hands. Cam shot him _The Look_.

No one answered. At least, not until Skye, in her stupid, nasally voice said, "Chris Plovert did, sir. And for no reason whatsoever! Kemp helped him!" She sounded positively gleeful.

"_No reason whatsoever_?" Chris repeated, turning his head to look at the buttery blonde. She smiled at him, wiggling her fingers in that weird wave girls do, and he had half a mind to go punch _her_ in the face. "Are you kidding me? Danny was—and Alicia is—and now I—"

But his mindless blathering did nothing for his case and Dean Don set his piercing gaze on him. "Again, Mr. Plovert? I thought you were above this sort of nonsense. You are the sophomore class president. You have a reputation to uphold."

"But—Danny and Alicia and he called her—but she's _not_—and it's _his fault _that she's—"

"I didn't tolerate it the first time it happened," his principal spoke sternly, "and I will not tolerate it again. You are suspended, starting tomorrow. And you, Mr. Hurley, two weeks of detention."

.

.

.

On the other side of town, away from all the drama, Claire Lyons shoved a number of envelopes in a mailbox before getting into her father's waiting car.

Whilst her destination was a different state, the envelopes in the darkness of the mailbox were addressed to four people in the Westchester area: Massie Block, Alicia Rivera, Dylan Marvil, and Kristen Gregory.

If they read them, it would be the last time those four girls heard from Claire for a long, long time.


End file.
